The New Life
by doyou000me
Summary: Harry is left at Privet Drive and isolated from his friends and the wizarding world when he is attacked by a vampire and the course of his life changes drastically. And who is there to save him when he is left broken? Vampire fic, HP/TR. Slash.
1. Chapter 1

**THE NEW LIFE**

**1**

**Hellu~**

**I've come up with a new story! XD  
Personally, I think I've done real good this time ;P And this story is going to be longer than my previous two (if I manage to complete it O,o)**

**So read and (hopefully) ENJOY~**

The chains of the swing squeaked eerily in the silence, the sound spreading out over the playground and cutting sharply through the gathering darkness. The warm wind ruffled his hair and made the empty swing beside him move a bit, its chains squeaking just as badly. Emerald eyes closed as he moved back and forth through the air that seemed thick and heavy due to the warmth – not even the wind could cool him down. He moved his body in time with the swing, stretching out and bending forward to gain momentum, swinging higher and higher, moving faster and faster.

Moving freely through the air like this felt good, almost like flying. _Almost. _He silently wished he'd had his broom as he imagined the seat of the swing to be the hard shaft of his broom, his hands gripping the sleek wood instead of the rusty chains. He needed the feeling of freedom it brought, needed to temporarily forget about the fact that he was as good as a prisoner under his own relatives, relatives who hated him and loathed everything he was.

It was harder to accept his imprisonment this year. The other summers he'd at least had the excuse that he would be safe from Voldemort if he stayed, and thinking so made it a little easier to get up every day, a little easier to do the chores around the house, to ignore his growling stomach the days he didn't get enough food. Now, that excuse didn't work anymore. Voldemort had taken his blood to make his own resurrection possible, and as his blood was now running through the veins of the Dark Lord, he really couldn't see how the wards were supposed to protect him anymore. Even so, Dumbledore had insisted he'd return to Privet Drive, for reasons Harry couldn't even begin to phantom. He'd tried to, some of those many hours he'd lain in bed staring at the ceiling, but he just couldn't understand why he had to return to the Dursley's.

The fact that he was pretty much isolated from the rest of the world didn't make it any better. He couldn't write to his friends, just like they couldn't write to him, since Dumbledore had said it would be much too dangerous since someone could track the owl and find Harry's whereabouts. Thus he hadn't heard anything from his friends since they departed from Kings Cross – they hadn't even sent cards or cake like they usually did on his birthday, leaving him feeling utterly abandoned. For the same reasons, he couldn't have a subscription of _the Daily Prophet_, cutting off all his strings to the wizarding world and leaving him completely in the dark about what was happening. He'd tried to follow the muggle news, searching for any unexplainable catastrophes that could be Voldemort's doing, but there was nothing other than the exceptionally hot weather on the tabloids.

The nights were almost worst and he didn't get enough sleep since he tried to stay awake just to avoid the nightmares. They always came in the end, and every night his scar burned as he watched Volcemort rise from the cauldron. The red eyes pierced through him as the unbearable pain of the cruciatus raged through his body, making him wake screaming and crying as the image of Cederic's lifeless eyes lingered.

It all left him feeling antsy and insecure, unsure of what he was supposed to do. In theory, Voldemort or any of his Death Eaters could jump out from around a corner any second and kill him, and he'd have no means of defending himself as Vernon had locked away his trunk and other things in the cupboard again, forcefully taking his wand from him and throwing it into the dark space before locking with a wide grin that made his chins multiply. A few nights later Harry had tried to break in to get his wand back, but Vernon had caught him and given him a twisted ankle and multiple bleeding bruises as punishment, rendering his foot useless for the next couple of days.

He had stopped moving when caught up in his dark musings, and the swing came to a halt, silence settling over the burnt grass as the squeaking died down. With a heavy sight he leaned his head against the chain, trying hard to forget everything. Forcefully leading his thoughts down another path, he remembered there was only about a month until school started and he'd leave Privet Drive behind for another year at Hogwarts. The thought didn't make him as ecstatic as it usually did, probably caused by the fact that he hadn't heard from his friends. But he would be safe behind the walls and wards of the school, so he wouldn't have to worry about Voldemort.

The sound of distant voices snapped him out of his thoughts and made him look up, catching sight of Dudley and his gang standing in the corner of the park. They bumped fists and said to meet again, maybe already next day, and the absence of his own friends made itself known in the all to well known form of pain. He longingly watched as the guys separated to their respective homes, none of them noticing his presence as if he'd become one with the darkness. As Dudley was left alone and turned to walk home, Harry slowly got up from the swing and followed, knowing they would lock him out if he returned later then his cousin.

Dudley didn't notice him until they walked through the tunnel under a road, where the sound of their steps echoed hollowly against the cement of the graffiti filled walls with the flickering lamps. The fat, blonde boy jumped at the sound and turned around to stare at him, clearly surprised that he was there. Harry walked up to him, not bothering to stop just because the other had, and Dudley scoffed before tuning back around and continuing, now only a few steps before his much smaller cousin. They walked along the abandoned streets in silence, passing lawns burnt by the sun and cars with a layer of dust that normally wouldn't be allowed to be there if it hadn't been for the extreme heat. Light flickered in windows from TVs, a couple ate their late dinner in the kitchen. Normal people, living normal lives under normal circumstances. None of them had to worry about a Dark Lord targeting them, so why did he have to be different?

_Because I happen to be the Boy-Who-Wouldn't-Die_, Harry thought mockingly. His whole life was like this because of something that had happened when he was little, too little to even remember it. It was just maddening, especially since no one understood his problem. They all thought he should be happy with being famed and looked upon, but all he wanted was a normal life. If he was given a choice, he'd trade the title of The-Boy-Who-Lived anytime.

He distantly noticed a man in a long, black cloak walking towards them, and Harry wondered why the man wore such heavy clothing in this hot summer. He didn't care much though, as nothing else seemed strange or discouraging about the man. There was no sudden stillness, no unexplainable silence or creeping fear. No feeling of danger as there should have been if anything was off. He still eyed the man wearily for a moment, blaming it on the paranoia of having a Dark Lord targeting him. It wasn't until they came closer to each other he got a better look at the man, and he immediately stopped dead. The cloak he'd mistaken the man for wearing was a robe, long and black.

Memories flashed before his eyes, white masks covering laughing faces, black cloaked figures standing in a ring around him, black fabric hiding their identities. But this man didn't have a hood, there was no white mask to hide his face. There was no way to get a good look of the man's features as they were hidden by the dark of the poorly lit street, and all Harry could make out was that the man was tall with long hair and dark eyes. Who was he? A Death Eater who would take him to Voldemort to be killed? A wizard sent by Dumbledore to finally collect him and bring him to the Burrow? Or, however unlikely it would be, just some random wizard walking down the street, oblivious of who Harry was?

He hadn't realized that Dudley walked up by the man to pass by, when the man suddenly reached out, wand in hand, and blasted Dudley into the wall of a nearby garage with a muttered word, the sound of the blast disturbing the silence and spreading through the night. Harry instinctively reached for the wand that should have been in his back pocket only to grab thin air. The man turned to him, a predatory smile on his lips, and Harry froze in place.

What was he to do? His eyes flickered to Dudley who lay by the wall like a giant heap of fat, a puddle of red slowly spreading over the asphalt by the blondes head. Head injuries always bled much, so it was hard to tell how bad the injury was. Would he be okay if Harry left, ran to save himself from this man, whoever he was and whatever he wanted? Or would he be leaving his cousin to death?

Cederic's gray eyes stared at him, forever empty and unseeing, his face frozen in eternal surprise. Would Dudley die just like him, simply because he'd been in the way when someone targeted Harry? But he had always put an great effort into making Harry's life as miserable as possible, using his as a punching bag when his friends held Harry in place, or dirtying the room Harry had just cleaned, earning him the punishment of a beating and yet another evening without supper. How many nights hadn't Harry wished his cousin to disappear or suddenly die? How many times hadn't he wished he'd had his wand so he could hex his cousin into oblivion? So why should he save him now, instead of trying to save himself?

The man was advancing on him, slowly coming closer as if he wanted to give Harry the chance to run, the wand once again tucked into the arm of the robe and out of sight. The realization that he actually had the chance to run made the decision for him, and Harry turned on his heal and ran. He'd always been fast and agile, the reason to why he made such a good Seeker, caused by the many times he'd run from Dudley's gang. This time he wasn't running from a beating, but from possible death, and the knowledge spurred him on as he sprinted down the street, jumped over a fence to cross someone's lawn and made his way through a hole in someone else's hedge. He threw a glance over his shoulder as he came back out on a street, knowing he'd have shaken off most pursuers with that.

But the man still followed him, a dark gleam in his eyes as the predatory smirk grew wicked. His motions were fluid and fast, and he didn't seem to have any trouble at all in matching Harry's pace. Harry turned back forward just in time to steer clear of a street pole, and he caught sight of a window with the light lit inside. Should he call for help and hope the pursuer wouldn't want to be seen? That the man would give up and leave to avoid the risk of getting caught. He quickly realized how unlikely it was, when thinking back to what the man had done with Dudley.

His blood froze in his veins as he realized he was all alone on this – if he called for help he would only bring death to others. A quick glance proved that the man was still after him, actually coming closer and closer, and he didn't even look strained while Harry's breathing came out in ragged pants and his lunges started burning with the effort to draw breath quick enough, his heart pumping wildly in his chest as fear took him. He couldn't outrun the man, and he wouldn't be able to defend himself without his wand. The pain suddenly shot through his side where Vernon had kicked him earlier that day because he hadn't made enough eggs for breakfast, even though he'd cooked all the eggs they'd had in the fridge. Gritting his teeth against the pain he stumbled, gripping his aching side as he gasped.

The man took the opportunity to end the hunt and jumped Harry from behind, throwing them both to the ground with Harry at the bottom, pressing the air from his lungs as the man landed on him. The man swiftly straddled his back and Harry bucked, trying to throw his assailant off in a desperate attempt to break free. A dark chuckle reached him from above and the man pressed down on him, firmly planting his chest against Harry's back, so close his breath washed over Harry's neck and sent a shiver down his spine. Before he could attempt any more resistance the man grabbed his wrists and gathered them in one of his hands, holding him still with practiced ease, rendering Harry immobile.

Harry felt the man sniff his neck and hum as if he was pleased with something before his free hand came up and stroked black hair from the nape of the neck, smoothly running a finger down the line of the neck.

"Sweet little wizard", he whispered softly before pressing his lips to Harry's neck, sucking on the skin and surely leaving a mark. "Wizards always smell so sweet contrary to those stinking muggles and their filthy blood", the man mumbled, his lips brushing against Harry's skin and making him shudder in repulsion. He turned his head the other way in defiance, making the man snarl angrily. Strong fingers grabbed his chin and forced his head back in the preferred angle, a slimy tongue lapping at his neck as a delighted moan escaped the man.

Harry clenched his eyes shut and tried to wrap his panicked mind around what was happening, trying to understand what was happening and why. The man didn't seem to know who he was and therefore wasn't sent by Voldemort, so why was this happening? Why did it have to happen to him? What was really happening?

Before he could find any answers to the questions the man suddenly bit down, fangs penetrating his skin and drawing blood. Harry shrieked in pain and his watering eyes snapped open, but the man simply grabbed his throat and held him in place as he sucked his blood. The action seemed to arouse the man as Harry could feel him growing hard against his back, and the man started grinding his clothed erection against him while moaning into his neck, the sucking growing more fierce.

The dizziness and disgust made Harry feel sick and the world swam before him as he slowly started drifting off, the pain in his neck dulling to a slight ache. Barely conscious he felt the man grind furiously for a moment before stilling, a lust filled moan sounded and the fangs withdrew, quickly replaced by the tongue that lapped up the leaking blood. A hand combed through his hair and the pressure was lifted from his now limp body and he was flipped over to rest on his back. The hand was back, stroking his hair as fingers threaded through his messy locks, and it felt good. The gentle caresses softly lulled him to sleep, and his body felt numb, his mind so distant. It was cold, and he somehow knew that it shouldn't be, that it should be very warm, but he didn't have the strength to care.

He was tired, so very tired.

"Would be a waste if he died…" The words came drifting from afar, but he couldn't grasp the meaning of them. A thumb separated his lips and opened his mouth, and soon there were a pair of lips pressed against his own and something was flowing into his opened mouth. He choked on the sweet, coppery liquid before his reflexes kicked in and he swallowed, gentle fingers massaging his throat to make the process easier. The lips left his own and he swallowed a last time before consciousness left him, a deep chuckle the last thing he heard.

XXX

Harry turned over and groaned into the flat pillow as the dull ache in his body filtered through his hazed mind. Why had Vernon beaten him this time? He frowned as he tried to recall what had caused the punishment, but he couldn't remember doing anything that could have evoked his uncle's fury. Emerald eyes fluttered open and he was met with a small room with white walls, a white bed with white sheets, a white nightstand and a white chair in the corner, all of it illuminated by fluorescent lamps that glared over the room with their sharp light. His first thought was that he was back at Hogwarts and had ended up in the Hospital wing again, but he quickly realized that they didn't have any single rooms there and they certainly didn't have fluorescent lamps.

That's when he saw the metal stand on wheels by his bed, a plastic bag with blood hanging from a hook and a thin tube connecting the bag to his arm. He was in a muggle hospital. Why was he…?

Harry sat up straight as the memories of the passed night flooded him and his eyes widened in shock and fright as his hand flew up to his neck to search for the bite mark that should be there. His fingers stroked lightly over soft skin, but there was nothing there. No mark, no nothing. Harry looked around the room in search for a mirror where he could check if there was really no mark, and his eyes stopped on the nightstand were his glasses lay. He just stared at them incomprehensively, lifting his hand to his face only to find the obvious fact that he did not wear the glasses that lay on the nightstand.

So why did he see clearly? Why wasn't the room a white blur in front of him as it should have been? He slowly sat up and threw his legs over the edge of the bed before reaching out to grab his glasses, hesitantly putting them on. The world went unfocused before him and he took them off, the world quickly returning to normal again.

"How the fuck…?" he mumbled in puzzlement when it suddenly hit him why he'd looked around in the first place, and he quickly got up and crossed the small room with the stand rattling after him, making his way to one of two doors, hoping it would be the toilet. He was met by white tiles and grey linoleum, and he quickly made his way to the hand basin and the mirror on the wall above it.

His black hair was its usual messy self, his face seemed slightly paler but that was probably from blood loss, and the emerald eyes appeared to be somewhat more vibrant than before. He quickly turned his head from side to side to inspect his neck and throat, but there were no marks, no indication of what had happened. And… the pain in his side was gone. He remembered that the pain had returned when he'd been hunted, that it had been the cause to his capture, but it was all gone now. All that was left was the throbbing ache that made his whole body sore.

Wanting to confirm that the wound actually was there, Harry lifted his T-shirt and stared at his flat stomach with the navel in the middle and the slight musculature from Quidditch training. The large gash that should have marred his side was all gone, as were all the old scratches and blemishes that had littered his body practically from top to toe. He blinked at himself as he stared at his mirror image, the thoughts tumbling over each other in the much too small space of his head.

All his injuries were healed, yet he was sore all over. His eyesight had suddenly been corrected. He'd been attacked and… _bitten_ by someone and yet he looked perfectly fine, except for the slight pallor of his face that could just as well have been caused by his shock…

_What happened? _

Before he had any chance of answering the question he heard the second door open, and quickly looked out from the toilet. A nurse looked at him in surprise and he quickly dropped his shirt and blushed, making the woman smile in amusement.

"How are you feeling?" she asked politely and gestured for him to sit on the bed as she started picking out things from her pockets and place them on the nightstand by his glasses.

"Uhm… fine, I guess. A bit sore", he answered meekly and the nurse nodded before putting a thermometer in his mouth and go over to the stand with the blood bag to pick the things together while Harry sat with the thermometer in his mouth, brooding on what had happened. The thermometer soon beeped and the nurse took it, frowning slightly at the temperature displayed.

"A bit to cold…", she mumbled and Harry looked worriedly at her. "Oh, don't worry, I'm sure you will be fine in no time", she said with a reassuring smile before taking his blood pressure and press down lightly with her hands on different places of his body to see if it hurt or if he had any other injuries.

She quickly dismissed him as being in good enough shape to return home, told him to take painkillers for a few days against the ache and then proceeded to tell him that his uncle was waiting down in the cafeteria before leaving. Harry frowned as he took his glasses from the nightstand and put them in a pocket before leaving the room and go down the corridor, following the signs in the ceiling pointing towards the cafeteria. Why would uncle Vernon be waiting for him? He stopped dead in his tracks as he spotted the man sitting by a plastic table beside the coffee machine, a mug in his hands and a dark look on his face.

_This can not be good_, Harry thought with dread when he suddenly remembered what had happened to Dudley. Was he okay? Was that why Vernon looked so grim, because he was worried for his son? Harry certainly hoped so as he slowly made his way over to his uncle.

When Vernon looked up and Harry saw his eyes, he quickly realized that hope wasn't going to help him, and dread filled him as he followed his uncle out to the parking lot, a clouded sky looming over them. It felt as if the temperature had fallen slightly, but when Harry threw a glance at the thermometer displayed on the radio screen, it was unchanged. Not a word was exchanged during the car ride, Harry thought of asking how Dudley was just to break the tense silence, but didn't dare disturb Vernon in any way, worrying for what was to come. As soon as the car came to a stop outside Privet Drive 4 with its perfectly mowed yet dry lawn, Vernon got out and Harry followed his example, only to be grabbed by his neck and pulled through the door that was open in order to let in a nonexistent breeze.

Aunt Petunia looked up from the kitchen zink she was drying as they came in but only watched them silently with hard eyes as Vernon dragged Harry up the stairs and into his bedroom where he threw his nephew on the floor. Harry quickly scrambled to his feet as Vernon locked the door behind him with a final click, and Harry stared at the door that had been his last available way of escape. Not that he had anywhere to go, but it always felt good to know that he had at least some way to get away if things turned really ugly.

Vernon slowly advanced on him, his face twisted in a wicked way, eyes dark with malice. Harry backed away until he had his back pressed against the wall and couldn't back further, his emerald eyes flickering around the room, searching desperately for something that could help him. As Vernon reached out to grab him, he quickly threw himself to the side onto the bed and he scrambled away over the hard mattress in order to put some distance between them. Somehow Vernon managed to grab hold of his ankle and pulled him closer, simply catching Harry's other leg as he tried to kick his uncle.

"You little freak", the man spat furiously, slamming his right leg down over the ribbed bed foot, effectively snapping his ankle. Harry shrieked in agony as pain shot up his leg, clamping his eyes closed as if it would ward off the hurt. "Dudley almost died because of you and you walk off without a scratch!" Vernon roared, spit flying from his mouth as he dragged Harry down on the floor and mercilessly kicking him.

Harry screamed and cried, begging for forgiveness like he never had before, probably because he realized this wouldn't end as one of the normal beatings. He tried his best to protect his head with his arms, curling up in a feral position as the kicks continued coming down on his already hurting body, Vernon's cursing hammering against his ears. He could feel bones breaking under the force of the kicks, and his voice had soon grown hoarse and his breathing grew ragged and strained, each breath painful.

_I'm going to die. _

The though was fleeting and vague in his pain filled mind, and yet he knew it was true. Vernon would kill him in his rage and there was nothing he could do without his wand since he'd never had any physical strength.

_I'm going to die, but I don't want to. _

A kick hit him in the chest, driving the air out of him as he felt bones crumbling to splinters, a hoarse whimper escaping him as the world blackened.

_I don't want to die!_

He wished desperately that someone, anyone, would be there to help him, to stop this, save him.

_Please, make it stop, make it stop_, he pleaded in his mind and cried with his face pressed against the floorboards, sobs wrecking his broken body as the tears streamed down his face.

Lying there on the floor, crying because his life was to come to an end, was the supposed saviour of the wizarding world, the so called Boy-Who-Lived who had defeated one of the most powerful wizards as a mere newborn.

**Okay, that was the first chapter, and I already have chapter 2 and 3 completed (though not checked =,=') so it'll probably take some time before they're up.**

**So, tell me what you think!  
So far this story feels really good for me, so tell me what you think ^^**


	2. Chapter 2

**The New Life**

**2**

**Hey people!  
Here's chapter two ^^ I kinda got stock while writing chapter 5, so I ended up correcting this one instead. **

**Read and enjoy! XD**

Harry slowly cracked his swollen eyes open, his breath hitching and sobs still wrecking his body, the slight movement enough to make the pain tenfold. But the kicks and the curses had stopped, the room was silent except for his own ragged breathing. He slowly moved his arms from around his head where they had served as futile protection, flinching as he felt the searing pain of one of them being broken, and let emerald eyes dulled by pain sweep across the room.

He was supposed to be dead. Vernon was supposed to have killed him. So why hadn't he? Emerald eyes locked on the still form of the giant man and he stared at his uncle in confusion, his pain ridden mind unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Why was he just laying there? Why wasn't he kicking and screaming anymore? Why was he so still, so pale, so utterly… lifeless?

Through a great effort Harry managed to push himself up on this elbows and look around the small, sparsely furnished room, the world darkening outside the window. There was no one there aside from himself and Vernon. No one who could have killed his uncle. No one…

-but him.

Realization dawned on him, making his eyes go wide and his face pale with shock. The shock, however, was quickly replaced by fear that coursed through his body, making him freeze in place as the thoughts swirled though his head.

He'd killed Vernon. He'd killed another human being. He was a murderer, no better then Voldemort himself. And he'd used magic even though he was an unauthorized wizard. The Ministry would come for him, they would snap his wand and surely put him in Azkaban to rot among the Dementors, the last minutes of his mother's life screaming in his head until he went mad or died. There was no saving him now, not when he'd turned into a monster like this.

Panic reigned over his mind, a choked sob breaking over his lips as the dark future hovered over him, pressing down like a great weight. He didn't want that, and he knew it as surely as he'd known he didn't want to die when Vernon was beating him. He had to get away before they came, had to escape to save himself. The thought manifested itself in his mind, clear and strong in the chaos his world had turned into, and he somehow managed to pick himself up from the floor by leaning his weight against the wall. His legs shook under him as he limped along the wall to the door, the broken ankle ablaze with pain when he put his weight on it.

He left the room without looking back, not wanting to see the eyes staring at the ceiling, emptied by death. His breathing came out harshly as he made his way down the stairs, leaning heavily against the wall and gritting his teeth against the pain. The knowledge that the Ministry could be there any moment spurred him on, making him continue when he should have collapsed long ago.

"Vernon?" Petunia shouted from the kitchen, sticking her horse like face out though the door and into the hallway. She paled and froze in place when she spotted her nephew coming down the stairs instead of her husband, bloodied and pale as death with haunted green eyes that stared at her. The plate she'd been drying went crashing to the floor, shattering in thousands of pieces at the impact.

"Open the cupboard", Harry wheezed, clinging to the railing with week fingers. If his aunt was shocked enough to drop one of her treasured plates she'd surely be shocked enough to do as he said. It seemed as if his reasoning had failed though, as she fled further into the kitchen, and he felt hopelessness filter though his fatigued mind. He had no chance of breaking the cupboard open in his weakened state, and he would be totally defenceless against Voldemort and his Death Eaters if he didn't get his wand. So then what was he to do?

Then Petunia came back out, her hands shaking as she unlocked the cupboard and her eyes continuously flickering between him where he leaned against the wall and the lock she was working on. She stepped back as soon as the lock clicked and stood there fidgeting with her hand to her long throat, looking as if she wanted to run away but didn't dare to.

Harry ignored her as he made his way down the last steps and went to the now opened cupboard, where he managed to find his wand in a dark and dusty corner filled with spider nets. As soon as his hand closed around the slender wood he felt safer and a bit calmer, assured that he would at least not be completely defenceless if someone attacked him.

He stared at his trunk, broom and the empty bird cage – he'd set Hedwig free as soon as they'd gotten off the Hogwart's Express so that Vernon wouldn't be able to do anything to her during the summer – realizing he wouldn't be able to bring it all with him and quickly settling for rummaging though his trunk until he found his Invisibly cloak. Next he took his broom before straightening, reasoning he wouldn't need schoolbooks and robes with the Gryffindor mark, and turned on his heel after a last look on his frightened aunt. He'd surely affirmed all her fears of what wizards were only by doing this, and yet she didn't know that her husband lay dead on the second floor, killed though accidental magic caused by a minor.

He threw his Invisibly cloak over his shoulders as soon as he'd gotten out of the door and onto the now darkened street, and he mounted his broom with his wand inside the weistband of Dudley's hand-me-down jeans that were much to big for him. His body screamed in protest against the torture as he rose from the ground, hovering barely a metre from the asphalt before he leaned slightly forward and urged the broom on, flying slowly and unseen towards an unknown destination.

Even thought the pace he was forced to keep due to his condition was slow, he knew it was much faster than he could ever have managed to walk, and he clung to that though almost as desperately as he clung to the broom with his broken arm hurting, as the ground slipped by underneath him, sometimes not more then centimetres from his toes. His head was soon swimming with exhaustion, all strength drained from his broken and still bleeding body. When he'd almost fallen off his broom for the forth time he gave in to the fatigue and landed in a small park, abandoned for the night and sparsely lit with lamps placed along the paths of pebbles.

Said lamps threw dim circles of light over the ground, leaving the neatly kept lawns and flower beds in darkness. Trees and blooming bushes threw long shadows where they lined the paths that were here and there sided by benches and waste bins, cigarettes and emptied cans littering the ground around them.

Harry took refuge in the deep shadows under the threes, hiding himself and the broom under a bush that grew right next to the trunk of an oak. There, on the dry and dusty dirt, he curled up under his fathers Invisibly cloak and let unconsciousness bring him into disturbed and insecure sleep.

XXX

A sharp crack resounded in the silence of the park, the sound enough to wake Harry from his troubled slumber, emerald eyes cracking open, dull with exhaustion. The pain had subsided to an aching throb that pulsed through his whole being, body and mind, and it effectively kept him from finding peace. He listened intently for a moment, the rustle in the leaves turning into a rumble in the silence, the noise thundering against his strained senses.

Then the soft crunching of pebbles under feet reached him along with the rustle of cloth, and he tensed as he heard the noise coming closer as someone out there walked down the path that led towards his hiding place.

The crack of another apparition tore through the calm, another set of feet soon walking along the path after the first. There was no doubt about it now, these people were wizards, but he didn't know who had sent them. The Ministry, Dumbledore, Voldemort? As it was, Voldemort's men were to prefer before the Ministry, since they would deliver a relatively quick death instead of the out drawn torture of the Dementors.

Dumbledore though… what would Dumbledore do in this situation? What would his friends think? Sirius? Lupin? The Weaslys? Would they all look at him with new eyes, see him as a monster and a murderer, or would they still think of him as Harry?

One thing was for certain – he could no longer be their saviour. Not when he'd been turned into a creature of the dark. Not when he'd killed. Would there still be a place for him in the world if not as the saviour? He somewhat doubted it.

Hushed whispers were heard from the wizards approaching, and Harry could see their feet when peering out between the branches of the bush. The two men muttered something under their breaths and the end of their wands started shining with the _lumos_ charm. The sharp light pierced his eyes and made him flinch back, the sudden movement sending a bolt of pain though his body and he had to hold back the scream that wanted to break out of him.

As it was, only a muffled whimper escaped him, but it was enough to make the two men stop dead in their tracks and look around, letting the light from their wands enlighten their surroundings. Harry curled up into a tight ball under his Invisibly cloak, his wounded body tense and hurting, his tired muscled quivering. What was he to do? He couldn't possibly move from his place, not when his body could barely take the smallest of movements, but he couldn't just stay there and wait for the men to find him. Should he hex them from his place under the bush, and hope that there wouldn't show up any reinforcement? And what if he only managed to hex one of them, then the other would know exactly where he was and could take his time calling for help since Harry couldn't flee anyway. Did he even have enough energy to throw a simple hex without passing out?

The crunching of steps on pebbles returned as the men started searching the bushes lining the path, and Harry intently watched their feet slowly moving closer. The light fell directly over the bush he was hiding under and he kept absolutely still and held his breath so that he wouldn't make any sound to give him away. A pair of feet came closer to stop directly before the bush and Harry peered upwards to keep an eye on the man through the leaves. A moment of complete stillness followed as the man moved leaves out of the way and leaned slightly forward, unable to see Harry under his cloak. The face of an unknown man with dark eyes and light brown hair could be seen clearly in the light of the _lumos_ as the man frowned and stared directly at Harry, as if he could actually see him.

"Avery, you see something?" the other man asked from the other side of the path, rising from his inspection of some other bushes.

Harry's heart seemed to stop at the mention of the mans name as he remembered it from that night… the man had thrown himself at Voldemort's feet, begging for forgiveness, and he'd been tortured under the _cruciatus_, his screams piercing the night… and Voldemort had called the man Avery.

_Death eaters_, Harry realized as fear clamped down on his heart.

Avery frowned, his eyes drifting off to the side and then suddenly widening a bit before snapping back at Harry. Worried of what the death eater had seen, Harry carefully turned his head to the side and saw the end of his broom stick out from under the cloak, a bit of it exposed from when Harry flinched as it had caused the cloak to move a little. The panic made his breaths come in short wheezing gasps, and however he tried he couldn't make himself calm down enough to breathe silently.

"Come over here", Avery said and the other death eater moved over. "See that? The shadows are… strange."

Harry's eyes widened in realization as he understood what they were talking about – even if they couldn't see him, the cloak didn't make his shadow disappear and he was sure it could clearly be seen in the light of the wands. The unknown man reached down and Harry tried to edge away, but stopped as his body protested violently, and gripped his wand tighter. Suddenly, as if the man had changed his mind, he withdrew his hand and instead stabbed down with his wand, hitting Harry in the back, straight on one of the quite serious gashes that Vernon had left him.

A tortured shriek tore itself from Harry's lips and he collapsed to the ground, his fingers scraping in the dry dirt. He remotely felt his Invisibly cloak being removed but barely registered it, just as he didn't think of the single apparition crack that soon followed. When the pain had dulled to being bearable his scream ebbed out in the night and he lay there, gasping with tears streaming down his face, his eyes clamped shut against the pain. He was vaguely aware that there was a death eater standing over him, wand pointing at him, but he couldn't seem to care as his mind seemed scattered by the overload it had been subjected to the last 24 hours. Too much had happened for it to be able to keep up any longer.

Just as he'd managed to calm down enough for his breathing to return to something close to normal, two loud cracks tore through the silence and Harry gasped in pain as his scar burned as if on fire. Why couldn't the pain just end? What had he done to deserve this? He somehow knew that he had done something that made him deserve this, but he couldn't think clearly anymore. All he wanted was for it to end.

He distantly heard voices but couldn't make out what they were saying even though they were barely a metre away. Wanting to know what had caused this new pain and expecting the answer, he turned his head and stared at the three black clad men on the path. The two death eaters were kneeling with their heads bent, none other then Voldemort himself standing over them with eyes red as blood fixed onto Harry. Their eyes met, emerald and ruby gazing into each other, before Harry closed his eyes in acceptance.

"Kill me", he whispered, his voice so hoarse from screaming it was just barely audible. That was it. Voldemort would kill him, and it would be all over. His pain would finally come to an end and he wouldn't have to worry about Dementors.

A stunned silence followed his words, and then he heard someone stepping up to him, coming to a halt just before him.

"And why would I do that, Potter?" Voldemort asked coldly, emerald eyes snapping open as Harry realized how close they were. The shock of suddenly seeing the reptile face of his sworn enemy up close made Harry hiss instinctively and recoil, the pain of the movement enough to make him lose grip of his consciousness, and the world disappeared into darkness.

XXX

Snape had reported that the Boy-Who-Lived had disappeared from his home and that both the Ministry and the Order of the Phoenix were searching for him. The dark lord had immediately sent death eaters to search the surrounding areas, but it had taken much longer then he'd though before Avery had shown up, claiming to have found the boy.

Now Voldemort stared at the Boy-Who-Lived laying before him, dirtied and bloodied, tears having left streaks in the grease of his face. Avery had told him that the Potter-brat was heavily wounded and seemed to be in a lot of pain, but he hadn't though it would be this bad. He'd been shocked when the boy had asked to be killed, seemingly resigned to his destiny as if he actually welcomed it, but what had shocked him the most was the boy's reaction when he'd recoiled – he'd hissed and shown his teeth, the canines having grown into fangs.

To confirm his suspicions, the Dark Lord reached out and placed a long fingered hand to the boy's pale cheek. The skin was cool to his touch, not directly cold but not the usual warmth either. Next he lifted the boy's upper lip to display his canines. They had withdrawn back to their normal length, but were slightly sharper than should be, and Voldemort's suspicion was confirmed.

Dumbledore's Golden Boy, the supposed saviour, had been turned into a vampire, a creature of the dark, and was now lying unconscious before him.

Thoughts of how this had come to happen swirled through his mind, but one thing was clear – he would not kill Potter. If he did kill the brat now when he was so weakened he couldn't even keep himself conscious in the presence of his worst enemy, it certainly wouldn't bring any credit and there could still remain doubts of who of them would be the stronger in a fight on equal terms. The whole point of killing Potter was to prove that no one was stronger then he, especially not some teenage Gryffindor, and that could not be achieved in this situation.

But fact remained that he wanted more than to prove his own capability and power to ensure his followers loyalty – he wanted to know what had happened to the boy, what circumstances had made him a vampire and what had caused him such injures. Who had managed what he himself, as the feared Dark Lord, had yet to succeed?

He rose in one fluid motion and turned to his two followers, both of them still bowing deeply as they should. "Avery, I want Snape to be present in the mansion in the next couple of minutes", he ordered sharply and the man immediately disappeared with a crack. "Dolohov, take Potter's belongings and come with me to the mansion."

He didn't wait for the other to follow the order, knowing that he would obey without question, and turned back to Potter. A quick cleaning charm later to prevent his black robes from being dirtied he lifted the boy up, not trusting Dolohov to take him now that he finally had Potter in his grasp.

With a secure grip of the Boy-Who-Lived he apparated from the muggle park to the front steps of a grand, elegant manor of pale bricks with white stones in the corners and framing the big windows and the double door. Two elegant, thin pillars in white held up the small roof that protected guests from the climate as they waited to be let in. Behind them a thriving garden spread out, half of it encircled by the manor with its two wings, a fountain of white stone in the middle. Beyond the garden an expanse of green grass spread out until it reached the tree line of a forest with giant, old trees. It was all very peaceful and welcoming, making it impossible for the viewer to suspect that the Dark Lord himself lived there.

Voldemort didn't look at the familiar view as he strode through the door, opened by a bowing house elf, and through the entrance hall to the wide stairs that led from each side of the room up to the gallery of the second floor before joining together and continuing to the third and last floor. He went up the stairs, the green carpet dampening the sound of his steps. Potter's head leaned against his shoulder, the raspy breathing washing over his skin, each breath followed by a slight wheeze as if a lung had been punctured.

The corridors of the third floor were narrower than the wide hallways of the two lower floors, with dark wooden panels halfway up the walls and small shining glass globes hanging from the balk in the ceiling that showed where the ridge of the roof went. Doors lined the walls, made of the same dark wood as the panels, intricate door panels decorating the wood.

He stopped outside of one of those doors and opened it with magic to enter a bedroom of comfortable size with a wide double bed sided by a nightstand, a desk, drawer, mirror and an armchair with a side table by the dormer window that gave a good view of the garden down below and let the sun in to illuminate the room.

The mattress gave away softly as Voldemort put the unconscious boy down, watching his enemy silently as the sound of his soft wheezing filled the room. The boy looked so young and innocent in his sleep, reminding Voldemort that it was just a fifteen year old kid lying before him, even though he had the burden of the wizarding world's future on his shoulders.

Dolohov came in behind him, bowing deeply before leaving Potter's wand on the nightstand, the broom in a corner leaning against the wall and the Invisibly cloak draped over the back of the desk's chair. Just as he was about to leave Snape swiped in through the door, his hair as stripy as ever and the black robes fluttering slightly behind him. The two death eaters nodded curtly to one another as a greeting before Dolohov left, and Snape bowed deeply to his Lord.

"You summoned me, my Lord", he mumbled and straightened, his black eyes immediately locking on the form of the sleeping Harry Potter. His black brow twitched slightly, the only give away that proved the man was greatly shocked by the sight.

"Unexpected events have changed certain aspects of this war, Severus", Voldemort said, red eyes meeting black ones for a moment of silence as the worlds slowly settled in the stillness of the room. "You are to bring Potter back to full health, as he is to be a follower now that he have joined our side, physically if not yet mentally."

Snape's eyes threw a quick glance at the unconscious, broken boy before returning to his lord, eyes slightly narrowed but his face set in a blank mask. "I am afraid I do not quite understand, my Lord."

"Potter has been turned into a creature of the dark, Severus. Namely a vampire."

The dark eyes actually widened a fraction, the already pale face paling a bit more. The potions master immediately whirled around and went up to the bed with long strides, leaning over the Boy-Who-Lived and placed a hand on his forehead, much like Voldemort previously had done. After doing a quick check of the boy's teeth the man straightened and pinched the bridge of his crooked noose and took a deep breath.

"May I inquire of how this happened, my Lord?" Snape asked, quickly pulling himself together and putting his mask back in place after the slip.

"Not even I know that, unfortunately, being one of the reasons to why Potter is to be kept alive. He was already in this state, though conscious, when we found him."

Snape slowly nodded, accepting the answer, and turned back to Potter to treat his injuries. Voldemort watched quietly for a moment as the potions master got himself an overlook of the boy's condition, wand moving and words muttered under his breath. Then Snape straightened and turned to his lord, black eyes unreadable.

"Most of these injuries are resent, but he also has a lot of old fractures and wounds. Some of which could be several years old."

Voldemort gave a slight nod and inwardly debated that the injuries may not have been caused by the vampire that turned Potter. If that was the case, then who was responsible?

**Ok, so that's it. I'm gonna study to my test now, and you're going to tell me what you though of this chapter, aren't you? ;P**


	3. Chapter 3

**The New Life**

**3**

**Ok, so here's the third chapter for you! ****  
I'm getting really much response for this story - when I'd uploaded the previous chapter I had like 22 new mails that were Favs, Alerts and Reviews, so that made me really happy! XD Thank you all *huggs* x)**

**Oh, and we had orientation in school today D: I managed to trip on the first controll (do you call it that in english? O,o) and caught myself with my arm, and it went all numb! It still hurts, but I'm really happy I can still write! Imagine my life if I couldn't! - No, don't, I'll give you nightmares O,o**

**Just as a side note, Harry will be a bit off a few chapters foreward, but it will come an explanation for that further on (chapter 5) so don't worry if you don't understand it and just think it's strange when reading this ^^**

**So, on with the story!**

For the second time in a short time span, Harry woke up wondering why he wasn't dead. This time, though, he didn't feel as if every bone in his body had been crushed to sharp splinters, but he felt… weak. As if he'd been drained of all his energy, and he supposed that the recent events pretty much had. He wasn't laying on the floor in a puddle of his own blood, either, but on a grand, really soft bed with four posters and green hangings tied to them. As he looked around he found himself in a comfortable room with furniture in dark wood, fabrics in green and details of silver, all of it elegant and quite expensive looking, somehow managing not to seem heavy even though the colouring was dark.

Golden sunshine poured in through the dormer window, the light displaying small particles of dust dancing lazily though the air. Harry lay there, his head resting against the plush pillows as he was curled up under the warm, soft vanilla coloured cover with the green bedspread over. He knew it should be too warm under the covers, especially since it was in the middle of the all too hot summer, but it didn't feel like it. It just felt… good.

His emerald eyes followed the movements of the dust, watching their dance as he enjoyed the moment. He didn't know where he was or how he'd gotten there, didn't know why he wasn't dead or what had happened with Voldemort. The fact that he wasn't in pain made him realize that he was healed, but he didn't who had done it. But all these questions seemed somewhat unimportant, uninteresting, as if it didn't have anything to do with him. He was simply too tired to care about it, to care about anything at all.

He didn't know for how long he stared at the dancing dust, it may have been minutes, it could have been hours. He was brought back to reality by the sound of a door opening and turned his head to see Voldemort walk in. Harry looked up at the man, and found him… different. He suddenly saw changes that he'd missed in the darkness of the night, when his brain had been out of function because of the heavy pain.

Voldemort's face had regained some of its colour, and the nose was slowly making itself known, no longer in the form of two slits. Short, dark hair was growing out of the bald skull, and the mouth started gaining lips. He looked like he was in some kind of middle stage between human and… whatever he'd been when he'd first been resurrected.

The eyes that met his were still red, though, just as red as they'd been on that night a few months ago. But there was something… off. Even aside from the quite obvious change in outward appearance, there was still something that wasn't the same…

Emerald green eyes widened a fraction in confusion, and he mouthed the realization before thinking of how it would sound.

"It doesn't hurt anymore."

"Well, of course not, you have been healed", Voldemort sneered, closing the door behind him.

"No… or, yes, but…", Harry raised his hand and brushed his fingers over the scar shaped like a lightning bolt that cut through his forehead. "_It_ doesn't hurt anymore", he repeated, his tone questioning.

"Really now?" Voldemort said, raising an eyebrow that only barely existed. "It might be because I no longer intent to kill you…", he mused and walked over to the dormer window to sit down in the green, velvet armchair, one leg elegantly folded over the other as his arms rested on the armrests.

"Why don't you?" Harry asked, confusion, disappointment and relief all mixed in a contradictive jumble of feelings. "Why didn't you just kill me?"

"Would you rather I had?"

Harry's eyes went distant for a moment, not really knowing the answer to the question. Sure, he didn't want to die, and his desire to live was strong enough to accidentally cause the death of another. But now that he was alive, he didn't know what to do of it. He couldn't return to his old life as the famous Harry Potter, saviour of all, because they'd never accept what he'd done, never forgive his deed. So he couldn't live his old life, but then what was he to do?

"I… don't know", he answered uncertainly, his voice soft in the comfortable stillness of the room. His gaze refocused and he found curiosity in the depths of those bloodied orbs.

"It wouldn't have been any merit in killing you in the condition you were last night", Voldemort said evenly, as if discussing the most profitable business deal. "But first and foremost, you are one of us now."

Red eyes searched green ones, looking for a reaction that would have to come, but was only met with slow blinks. "How… did I become one of you?" Harry asked, the confusion even more evident now.

"Since the Ministry discriminates dark creatures, they have fallen under my responsibility during the last decades, being the reason to why so many of them are my allies. You, Potter, are a dark creature. You are a vampire."

Harry opened his mouth, intending to protest and say that he clearly wasn't, why would he be, but no words crossed his lips as his mouth remained open. The man that had attacked him… he'd been fast and strong when hunting Harry, abnormally so for a human. And the man had bitten him, had sucked his blood. The words that had been said just before he fainted replayed in his mind: _"Would be a waste if he died…"_

Why hadn't he realized it earlier? Because so much had happened, first with Vernon and the beating, and than his attempted and, in the end, failed escape? He hadn't had the time to process the information, and so hadn't reached the conclusion.

He was a vampire. A dark creature. And murderer. There was no longer any doubt that Dumbledore and his friends would never take him back. He could never return.

"Potter?" Voldemort snapped, and Harry was pulled back to the present once again. A present where he was laying in a really nice bed, in the same room as the Dark Lord was. The thought made him frown, his life suddenly changed drastically in ways he'd never been able to even imagine.

"Yeah", was all he said, confirming what Voldemort had already said, not sure what he was supposed to answer.

"Yeah?" Voldemort repeated, clearly not content with the answer and one of those nearly nonexistent brows raised again.

"I… should have realized that I am… one", Harry clarified, not willing to say the word for what he'd been turned into. Even though he knew it, he still hadn't accepted it and was somewhat in denial.

For a fracture of a moment Harry though he saw surprise flitter through those red eyes, but it was gone so quickly he was unsure it had ever been there. The bloodied orbs were searching his emerald ones again, but this time he wasn't sure what they were looking for.

"So the one who turned you, your sire, was the one who put you in the physical state we found you in?" Voldemort asked intently.

The memory of Vernon's still body on the bloodied floor of his bedroom at Private Drive 4 made a lump form in his throat, and regret and guilt flooded him, nearly disabling him from croaking out the simple "No".

He looked away and stared down at the green bedspread, not wanting to see those explorative eyes that he felt on him, the gaze piercing right through him. Then the imaginary weight of the scrutinizing gaze left, and Harry dared glance back at the Dark Lord. To his surprise the man seemed to have backed off and accepted the answer, as he now sat back comfortably in the armchair, long fingers splayed over the armrests.

Those fingers suddenly snapped, and a house elf with its big eyes and floppy ears appeared into the room with a pop, its bony body swept quite nicely in a green piece of fabric that was held together with a silver pin, a snake as its crest.

"Master called?" the house elf said while bending in a deep bow before Voldemort.

"Potter needs some dinner, Minxy", Voldemort said, and Harry looked at the window to see that the light really had dimmed a bit during their conversation. How long had they been talking? "And I'd like you to bring Severus."

Harry's mouth fell open and he turned to stare at the Dark Lord, not registering the house elf, Minxy, as he – or was it a she? – bowed again and mumbled a respectful "yes master" before disappearing again with a pop. Voldemort saw his surprised expression and once again raised a barely existent eyebrow, silently asking him what it was.

"Severus?" Harry asked, somewhat in disbelief. He didn't know himself why he didn't believe it. He had, after all, distrusted the man since he first met him and always blame him for everything bad that happened, but he still couldn't believe that the potions professor would really be a death eater. "You mean, like, Severus _Snape_?"

"The very same. Just as he happens to be your potions professor he also happens to be my potions master", Voldemort said evenly, red eyes catching green ones and holding them in place. Harry looked into the swirling red of those eyes he'd feared so much, the very same eyes that had impaled him when he'd been writhing in pain. For some reason, they didn't scare him anymore. It almost felt like it didn't matter what the man could do anymore, as if it wouldn't affect him anyway.

Then a smile suddenly spread over his lips and he realised he must be crazy for even thinking it, not to mention saying it, but he couldn't hold back the tantalizing comment. "The big bad Dark Lord can't make his own potions?"

Voldemort quirked a brow and actually looked amused, even though it was well masked, and Harry broke out in laughter. The tension of uncertainty and fear lifted and it felt like a weight of tons had left him.

"Considering your own grades in the subject, you have no saying in the matter", Snape said snidely as he walked in through the door, and Harry's laughter died down as he stared at the professor.

"You really are a death eater", he mumbled in wonder, the realization that he'd been right all these years still not fully sunk in.

"And you are a vampire."

The sudden turn made Harry blink in surprise and he stared at the man, feeling the gaze of two pairs of eyes on him as the two men in the service of darkness waited for his reaction. Silence filled the room, settling like a layer of stillness over everything, as if it strangling all the noise. Harry looked into black, hard eyes, the thoughts raging through his mind, denial, acceptance, terror, all mixed together. He couldn't possibly sort them out, couldn't decide what to feel, what to do.

"Yeah, he told me", he settled with, not sure of what to give as an answer, and jerked his head a bit towards the Dark Lord.

Snape threw a glance at Voldemort before turning back to Harry and walk up to the bed. He smacked a pale hand to Harry's forehead with more ferocity then needed, leaving a stinging ache when he removed his hand, only to grab Harry's chin and open his mouth to look inside, running his thumb over the canines. The treatment, as if he was some animal to be inspected before being bought, made Harry glare and he growled without thinking, the irritation instinctively bringing forth the menacing sound.

The hand was quickly withdrawn and Snape gave him a disdainful look which he easily answered with a dark glare, some kind of animal instinct awaking in him. For a moment they just watched each other, both guarded and ready for whatever might happen. The silence was tense, heavy and weighting down on them.

Then Snape seemed to snap out of it, reached inside his robes and got a vial out, a faded red draught in it that seemed almost transparent. "Drink", was all he said as he handed it to Harry, who gave him a suspicious look of distrust.

"Drink it, Potter, it's just a Blood Replacement potion."

Still eyeing the professor doubtfully, Harry uncorked the vial and sipped on the bleary liquid. The taste was thick and heavy, like that of banana juice, but it didn't taste much. A weak tinge of copper, but otherwise it was just watery. With a last glance at the potions professor Harry drank it all, grateful that it at least didn't taste horrible.

Just as he'd swallowed the last drop, the house elf Minxy popped into the room again, this time with a silver platter with intricate designs scratched into the surface. The platter held a plate of smoking hot meat with potatoes and some mushroom souse, another plate with newly baked bread and butter and a third with vegetables. A glass stood beside a carafe of pumpkin juice.

The mere sight of all the food made his mouth water, and the smell… oh the smell! After a summer with the sparse feeding from the Dursley's, it was like the ocean would be for a thirsty man in desert. But something held him back from throwing himself at the food.

"Can I even eat?" he asked, remembering the little he'd heard about vampires in tales, knowing that they only drank blood and those of them who could eat, couldn't taste anything but ash. He didn't want this delicious meal to turn out like ash in his mouth, not when he really wished it would taste as good as it smelled and looked.

"You don't know much about vampires, do you?"

Harry jumped, surprised when the Dark Lord suddenly spoke, and he realized that he'd actually forgotten that he was in the same room as the most feared man of their time. He turned his head to look at Voldemort, and shook his head in answer to the question.

"Vampires are fully capable of eating", Voldemort told him, his voice surprisingly lecturing as if he was used to teaching. "Most _need_ to eat to survive, just like a human, with the difference that they also need blood. The more blood a vampire drinks, the less will it need food, until it can feed solely on blood. It is also the blood that gives the vampire its inhuman strength and speed."

Harry stared at the man with wide eyes, letting the information sink in as he though it over. "The Blood Replacement potion… does it work… the same?" he asked curiously.

"No, all it does is giving you the nutrition needed and keep the blood thirst at bay, but just like muggle blood, it won't give you any strength. Now eat."

The platter with its food was placed on Harry's lap, and he quickly dug in, realizing he was starving. The food proved to taste just as good as it had smelled, and Harry emptied the contents of the platter in record time.

XXX

Voldemort sat back comfortably and watched the supposed-to-be-saviour sitting on the bed, propped up against the plush pillows. He ate as if he'd never seen food before, and he did look quite malnourished, too thin and too many bones showing through. The thick cover had pooled down around his waist when he sat up to eat, leaving his upper body exposed. The dying light from the window played over slightly tanned skin, here and there reflecting differently from scars that littered his body, now completely healed due to the vampirism.

The physical state of the boy made him wonder how the Light really treated their promised saviour, and he mused over if that could possibly be the reason to why Potter seemed to be at ease in the presence of the man who had tried to kill him a number of times. Potter had reacted somewhat negatively to him the previous night when they'd found him in that park, but when Voldemort found him awake the Boy-Who-Lived seemed… distant, as if he was oddly distracted from the situation.

It probably had to do with shock, Voldemort concluded, but that could not explain why the boy was no longer afraid of him. He had even joked! Confusing as it was, it was also highly amusing as none of his followers ever joked with him, for obvious reasons.

It he could turn the boy to the Dark side, it would be a conquest like no other. The Light stupidly put all their hopes on a fifteen-year-old boy and expected him to save them all. But what had they ever done to be favoured by him, to deserve being saved? How had they ever earned his loyalty? It certainly didn't seem as if Potter really had any reasons to save them, especially after all the back-talking that had filled the Prophet over the summer, pointing him out as a lunatic for believing that "You-Know-Who" had been resurrected. Really, they were fools not to believe the boy.

But maybe he could use that to turn Potter? Make him realize that there was really no reason to save those people, especially not after all they'd done to him. He could earn the boy's trust, his loyalty.

Potter had finished eating, all of the food now gone. With a content look Potter sank further into the pillows, the sluggishness of being full making him drowsy, weighting down on his eyelids. Minxy gathered the dishes and disappeared to the kitchen with a pop, leaving the three wizards alone in the room.

"You'll need rest, Potter, since your body is still adjusting to the changes", Snape instructed before giving his lord a bow and leaving the room with his black cloak flapping after him. Potter looked after his professor with sleepy eyes as he would, for once, be happy to oblige.

Reminding the boy of his presence, Voldemort rose from the armchair gracefully, drawing his attention.

"Do not leave the room, Potter", he ordered, expecting the boy to rile back against being commanded, but all he gained was a slow blink of those emerald eyes. "We would not want a stray death eater to find you and have his way with you, would we?"

Not awaiting the answer Voldemort strode past the bed and up to the door, only to halt halfway through and turn to look back at the newly turned vampire in his charge.

Black, messy hair was spread out over the vanilla pillows, making a sharp contrast between light and dark. Emerald eyes were already closed from the world, the thin chest heaving softly as his breathing made the cover rise and fall as it hid the thin body from view and keept it warm. The last rays of light came through the window, casting its glow over the room and the small sleeping form before sinking down below the horizon.

It spite of all that had happened to him, Harry Potter looked peaceful in his deep, dreamless sleep. The door to the corridor clicked shut and the sound of light steps on slightly creaking floorboards departed until stillness reigned the room.

**So, this chapter in shorter than the other ones :/ Sorry about that, but it was the natural place to break. **

**Next chapter is mostly informative, but you'll probably need to read it anyway... especially if you're interested in how my vamps work, as I think you've already noticed they're not the usual kind (don't worry, though - they won't sparke, I promise ^,~)**

**So, everybody! I'm off to try write some on chapter 6, and what are you going to do now?**

**...**

**Yes, very good! Review is the right answer! XD**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey everybody!**

**As I've already said to some, this chapter is mostly information about vampires - my version of vamps, mind you - and other stuff that you might need to know. I don't think it's all too boring, though...**

**ChoclateMilk2: I must admit defeat as my english-teacher told me you are right - and he was quite happy about it *sigh* As you can see, I have now moved my commas, but it is very possible that I have missed one, so please do tell me ^^ I will also change the commas in the comming chapters, so please do remind me if I slipp back into my old habit. /000**

**Now, time to enjoy the chapter!**

The light of the outside world filtered through the window and illuminated the room, dust once again moving through the air in a sedate dance. Harry yawned and stretched, finding himself lying on his side in the grand bed, almost disappearing under the thick cover. He felt… mushy all over, comfortably sluggish from the deep and very much needed sleep. His body felt heavy but not as weak as it had before, and he concluded that he'd gotten at least some of his strength back.

With another yawn he sat up, pulling the covers tightly around himself to keep the warmth from escaping, and let his eyes trail over the room. It was the same as before, except for a small pile of books on the side table by the armchair, and a new silver platter on the nightstand by the bed, this time covered with a matching cap to keep whatever was on the platter from cooling.

Curiosity made Harry get out of bed and wrap the thick cover around himself, as the only thing he was wearing was a pair of gray melange sweatpants that hung loosely on his slim hips. As he took the few steps from the bed over the floorboards and past the armchair, he fleetingly wondered who'd changes his clothes and cleaned off all the blood, deciding that it better not have been Snape.

Such thoughts were quickly swept away, though, as he came up to the dormer window, the windowpane fixed together by six panes of old, slightly uneven glass. The sun was shining on the world outside, the rays of light coming from somewhere behind him, on the other side of the house that cast long, deep shadows over the outstretched expanse of vibrant green grass. Beyond the grass there was trees, thousands and thousands of old, crooked trees with wide trunks and magnificent crowns that shadowed the ground below. A flock of birds rose from the trees, dark figures moving through the air in clear contrast to the light blue sky, circling a few times before disappearing out of view as the birds settled among the branches again.

He lifted the hasp and pushed the window open, letting it swing open to let in a bit of air. The slight breeze made him shudder and he pulled the cover closer. Were they even in Britain? He was pretty sure that they weren't, because it sure as hell wasn't this cold there. So where were they? Frowning he let his emerald eyes wander over the grass and the woods, searching for something that could tell him where they were, but nothing looked strange or different from how it usually looked in Britain.

Deciding to ask the first person he saw, he turned back into the room and went to the bed, letting the window stay open even if it seemed to cool the room. He sat down cross-legged on the edge of the bed, the mattress giving in under his slight weight, and he carefully draped the cover around himself before lifting the cap over the platter to see what it held.

Freshly baked bread with butter, cheese and ham, a bowl of porridge, an apple and some freshly squeezed orange juice. He smiled as he dug in, relishing in the opportunity to actually eat until he was all full, and delighted over the taste of it all. He managed to empty the platter once again, surprising himself, and then gathered the dishes on the platter again before looking around the room in pursue for something to entertain himself with. The sleep and the food made him feel energized, even though he still hadn't gotten all his strength back – not that he'd been very strong from the beginning, mind you.

Emerald eyes fell on the pile of books by the armchair, and he made his way to the lush piece of furniture to sit, still draped in the cover that almost swallowed him whole. He picked up the books one by one to, all of them old and heavy, to read the titles. The first one was _True Vampirism_, its cover clad in black velvet and with silver bindings; the second book was by far the thickest, with dried and slightly crackled leather cover and the title _Dark Creatures: Their Abilities, How to Recognize them and much more _written with ornate lettering; the next book was pretty thin with a green cover, sporting the title _Potions for Medication_; and the last book had a indifferent cover in brown, leather bindings keeping the medium sized volume together, simple and precise lettering giving the title _Introduction: Dark Arts_.

Just reading the title actually made him drop the book, and he stared at it where it lay on the floor as if it would grow teeth and bite his feet off. After several minutes he deemed it safe enough and took the precaution of pulling his feet up curl up in the armchair, his feet now safely out of reach from the quite possibly evil book.

Throwing a few suspicious glances at the book, Harry turned back to the other three books and picked out the lightest of them, the potions book, because it was the book that confused him the most. Sure, the dark arts introduction had shocked him, but when he though about it, it wasn't all that surprising that he would get a book on dark arts when he was in Lord Voldemort's house. But a potions book…?

He opened it up and found a short index over the potions the book described, and quickly found his answer in the headline close to the bottom: _the Blood Replacement Potion, page 43_. Wanting to know what Snape had made him drink the previous evening, he quickly thumbed through the worn pages until he reached page 43, where he found ingredients and instructions to actually make the potion, along with a short description of the potion and its affects.

The potion was described just as he had found it, transparent, red and with a thick yet watery taste. Apparently, the potion was usually used for patients that had lost a lot of blood due to injuries, and it was a quite common potion among healers. When he'd read through the short section he concluded that the potion did just what its name said it did – replaced real blood. But the book didn't mention anything about vampirism in connection to the potion.

With a quick glance to the book on the floor he put the potions book to the side and picked up the one on dark creatures. After a quick look on the index he thumbed through the volume to the section about vampires and started reading. He found a sort of strange fascination in reading about these mystic, dangerous and feared creatures while knowing that he was actually one of them, and he was almost immediately engulfed in the reading, not minding the small letters at all.

He only stopped his reading when a pop made him look up to see Minxy the house elf appear in the middle of the room. The small creature – Harry decided that it probably was a female, but he wasn't sure – bowed to him and looked up with worry in the big bulging eyes.

"How is young mister Potter feeling today?" she asked in a high-pitched tone.

"Good," Harry answered with a slight smile over the book that was propped up against his legs. "Thanks for the food, it was really good."

"Of course, mister Potter, Minxy is only doing her duty, sir," the elf answered and bowed again. "Do mister Potter need anything?"

"No, I'm good."

Minxy bowed again and proceeded to pick up the dark arts book from the floor to place it on the table beside Harry as he eyed it wearily and edged away a bit. She then took the dishes and disappeared with a pop, and Harry returned to his reading.

The pages about vampires had soon come to an end, and Harry quickly picked up the book on vampirism to continue. While _Dark Creatures: Their Abilities, How to Recognize them and much more _had given an general picture of vampires and vampirism, _True Vampirism _proved to be much more detailed.

The first chapter had the headline _Truth or Lie? _and Harry dived into the reading.

_Vampires are well known creatures in the wizarding society, but how much do we really know about these creatures? Many myths are circling a__bout, so called "truths" about vampires and how to kill them. Therefore we will begin by sorting out the truths from the lies, so that no illusions linger when the reading starts. _

_Two of the most well known lies are that vampires can not go out in sun because it will burn them to ashes, and they can only feed on blood. Both of these are lies, especially the first one as vampires are no more affected by sunlight than humans. The other one is also a lie, even though it is true that vampires do drink blood, it is not the only thing they feed on (see chapter 3: Feeding). _

_Further, there are many different believes of how you tell a vampire from a human, and many of these common believes are wrong. Vampires do not have deadly pale skin as they are not dead, but living creatures, and so they also do breathe. They do not have red eyes, not even when troubled by blood thirst, though they can extend sharp fangs when feeding. There are some believes that are correct, such as inhuman speed, strength and reflexes, and this can often be seen in how the vampire moves. Their outward appearance does not change, however, and they do not suddenly become overly beautiful (see chapter 2: Turning). _

_There are also many different ideas of how to kill a vampire, whereas most are wrong. As earlier mentioned, they do not die from sun. Neither are they affected by crosses, holy water or words from any holy script, as they are not creatures of the Devil. A stake through the hart would, in fact, kill a vampire just as well as it would kill any other living thing. We will get back to why vampires are hard to kill in chapter 4: Healing. _

Harry flipped page and continued on to the second chapter, _Turning_, and swept through the pages with eager eyes. He learned that you were turned into a vampire if you had lost all of your blood, either by being sucked dry or through blood loss from an injury, and you were then fed with a small amount of vampire blood. The vampire who's blood turned you became your Sire, but there was no lasting connection between a sire and his or hers fledgling. Such a connection could easily be made, though, by exchange of blood.

The changes that the turning brought were exhausting for the body and caused weakness that could last up to a week. Soon after that, the newly turned vampire would start having blood cravings, and since they often fed from their Sire it was quite common to have developed a blood bond between Sire and fledgling (_for further information, see chapter 6: Magic_).

Something Harry found interesting was a short paragraph saying that vampires had problems with keeping their body temperature, making them dependent on keeping their surroundings warm so as not to freeze. He threw a glance at the open window just behind his shoulder and realized that this must be the explanation to why he suddenly thought the hot weather had given in.

The sound of the door opening made Harry turn from the window in time to see Snape step through the threshold, looking every bit the bat his was. Black eyes swept across the room until they found Harry, and the potions professor briskly walked up to him. A pale hand reached inside the black robes as Snape stopped before him, only to withdraw again with a vial of Blood Replacing potion the he handed to Harry, who took the potion. He glanced at the professor's blank face before uncorking the vial and swiping the potion down, vaguely registering that the one who'd written about the potion in the book must have tasted it for the description to be so accurate.

As soon as he'd handed the vial back Snape turned to leave, the cloak fluttering behind him.

"Are we still in Britain?" Harry asked, wondering if they really were somewhere colder or if it was the changes of his body that made him think it was cooler.

The man stopped just by the door, hand reaching out to grab the handle, fingertips just millimetres from their destination. Silence filled the room, only broken by the distant rustling of the hot breeze swiping through the crowns of the trees in the wood. Then he turned his head, the rest of the body unmoving, and fixed Harry with a dark glare as if he wanted to convey his dislike of having to stay in the room longer than strictly needed.

"Yes, Potter, we are," he snapped dryly, and the silence was disturbed by the slam of the door as he left. Harry looked after him for a moment before returning to the book, soon enough engulfed by the reading.

And so the day passed on. Minxy popped in a while later with lunch, made the bed as good as she could when he had the cover wrapped around himself, and popped away again with the empty dishes when he was done. He entertained himself by looking out the window before seeking out the bathroom that proved to be behind the second door of the room. Vanilla tiles with a green lining greeted him, and he took a good look at himself in the big mirror over the hand basin.

The slight pallor had disappeared and he decided that it had indeed been caused by blood loss, and he looked overall healthier after lots of sleep and food – and the Blood Replacing potion. Taking a look around he found a bathtub held up by four ornate feet of brass, white fluffy towels piled on a stool just beside the tub, along with soap and a brush. Smiling, Harry turned on the water, steam gathering in the room and making the mirror foggy. The room quickly became warm and humid, and Harry shed the sweatpants on the floor before carefully feeling the water with his toes.

The water was bloody hot and he thought he would burn his skin off as he slowly lowered himself into the tub, but it felt oh so good! The warmth enveloped him and he released a deep breath as he relaxed, letting his head rest against the edge of the tub.

For a moment he wondered what he was doing, taking a bath and relaxing when in the hands of the Dark Lord, but he swatted the though away and let his mind wander. Through serpentine roads it slowly went back to what he'd read in the book, as he'd made it through almost all of chapter 3 that was titled _Feeding_. It confirmed what Voldemort had said the passed evening about most vampires needing food just as much as humans. Blood was still needed though, as the vampire would suffer from blood thirst without it, and if the thirst wasn't sated it could drive the vampire insane.

It also said that the need for food would lessen if you drank more blood, until you could live solely on blood and didn't need any food at all. This process could also be sped up if you drank stronger blood, meaning blood from a strong wizard. The stronger the wizard's magic was, the stronger would the blood be, and so it would also be more effective and fulfilling. It would also make the vampire stronger faster, as a vampire was dependent of blood to get inhuman strength.

As shorter paragraph had mentioned that you could drink different blood potions, such as the Blood Replacement potion, as an alternative to real blood, and this would keep the blood thirst at bay. It wasn't as effective as real blood, and therefore you would have to drink the potion twice daily. While it sated the thirst, it did not give any strength outside of the normal and human, and it did not taste as good (at this Harry scrunched his nose in dislike). You could also drink muggle blood, but as their blood did not hold any magic it gave the same result as a blood potion.

As a vampire you would always be sensitive to the smell of blood, even when your thirst was sated, but as long as you fed regularly the risk that you would lose your mind and attack was minimal.

Harry sighted and sank further down into the water, his mind buzzing with blood, thirst and the risk of loosing ones mind. The thoughts slowly started becoming sluggish until they came to a halt, and he fell asleep in the hot water.

XXX

"Mister Potter, sir, you shouldn't sleep in the bath!"

The squeaky voice awoke Harry with a start, making him sit up with a jolt, water magically kept warm splashing over the edges of the tub to crash down on the tiled floor. He looked around in shock, seeking the source of the noise as droplets flew from his soaked hair. Emerald eyes landed on the small form of Minxy in her green linen, eyes wide in remorse.

"Minxy is so sorry, mister Potter, Minxy didn't-!"

"Don't worry about it," Harry muttered and swept a curtain of dripping black from his eyes. "You're right, I shouldn't have slept in the bath."

Minxy seemed to debate with herself whether to go on apologising or not, but ended up nodding before taking one of the big towels and hold it out for him.

"Erm, could you, like… close your eyes?" Harry begged, embarrassed as he remembered that he was stark naked and Minxy was, house elf or not, a girl. She gave him a confused look but complied, and Harry checked that she really wasn't looking before he stepped out of the bath and wrapped the towel around himself. It was really soft and just as fluffy as it had looked, and so big it could go several times around him as it reached all the way past his knees.

Minxy took a second towel with her as she tugged at the towel he had around him to get him to follow her out into the room, where she gestured for him to sit on the bed. She quickly climbed up behind him and started drying his hair with the second towel, and he hummed in delight as thin fingers massaged his scalp. It ended much too quickly as his hair dried, and Minxy opened one of the drawers of the dresser that stood against the wall beside the dormer window, where the ceiling was the lowest.

After closing the drawer she came back to him with a new pair of grey melange sweatpants for him to change into, and he made her turn around as he put them on. As soon as he was done she served him a new platter, this one holding his supper, and she cleaned up the bathroom and took care of the wet towels while he ate.

Minxy was just about to leave with the dishes when she realized that the window was open, and immediately hurried to close it.

"Really, young mister Potter, do you want to get sick?" she asked somewhat accusingly. "First you sleep in the bath and now you leave the window open! Not good, sir, mister Potter, not good at all!" She shook her head sharply as she closed the window, big ears flopping around her head with the movement.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled, dropping his head as he actually felt ashamed.

Big eyes turned to him and he looked up at her through his still slightly damp fringe when a though suddenly hit him. "Hey, Minxy, _can_ vampires get sick?"

Big eyes blinked and clouded over in thought as she picked up the platter. "Minxy do not know, mister Potter. Should Minxy ask master about it?"

"No, don't worry about it. I can do that," Harry said, and she nodded.

"Is there anything minster Potter needs?" she asked.

"No, I'm fine."

"Then Minxy will come with breakfast tomorrow. You sleep well, mister Potter, sir." And with that she disappeared with the characteristic pop, leaving Harry alone. He got the book from the side table by the window and climbed up in bed to read, burying himself deeply under the cover, propped up against the pillows. He finished chapter 3 and read through chapter 4, learning that vampires healed quicker than humans from physical injury, and that they has a slight resistance to spells and hexes, making them hard to kill. It wasn't enough to make then resistant against magical harm, but you would need a stronger spell to harm a vampire in the same way you would a human.

Just as he was about to start on chapter 5 the door was opened and Snape came in with the vial of Blood Replacement, which Harry quickly downed before returning to his reading, not even waiting for the man to leave. He was vaguely aware that Snape gave him a strange look before leaving, but he soon forgot it as he focused on the reading.

XXX

Harry yawned and stretched, wincing as his neck ached from the uncomfortable position he'd fallen asleep in, head propped up against the pillows much too steeply. The book lay on the cover over his stomach, proving that he'd fallen asleep while reading. With a second yawn he moved the book to the side and sat up, massaging his back as he looked towards the window, finding the gray light of an early morning coming in through it to illuminate the room. He stretched again where he sat on the bed, cross-legged with the thick cover gathered around his waist, and his spine popped nicely.

Sleepily ruffling his hair he got out of the bed and went into the bathroom to splash some cool water in the face. As he sauntered back to the bed he threw a look out through the window and saw that the sun was indeed throwing its first rays of light over the treetops, and he groaned. If it was so early then why did he have to wake up? It had been _so nice_ in bed.

Attempting to go back to sleep he curled up on the bed again and pulled the covers around him, his eyes falling close as he breathed slowly and deeply. He dozed for some time, not really sleeping but not fully awake either, until the light from the window roused him awake. Deciding that he'd slept enough, even though it was still early, he returned to the book and continued his reading, still finding it immensely interesting to read about what he was.

Chapter 5 soon came to an end and the book went from describing how neglected blood thirst could turn one into an animalistic, mindless monster hunting for blood, to talking about how one's magic could be affected by vampirism in chapter 6. Apparently the animalistic instincts that every vampire had could channel into wandless magic, mostly accidental as it was hard to control. It also gave more detailed information about blood bonds that could form when two vampires exchanged blood.

As he finished the 6th chapter Minxy popped up with breakfast and seemed surprised to see him awake so early. She left him to eat alone as she seemed to have other things to do during the morning, and Harry started on the 7th and last chapter while he ate. It was title _Vampires in Society _and dealt with society's view of vampires.

About halfway though the chapter Snape showed up with the potion and Harry swallowed it down without thought before he returned to his reading. There were many laws and regulations regarding vampires, robbing them of most of their rights and pointing them out as dangerous creatures that kills mindlessly for their own sick pleasure and always supports the dark. Harry snorted darkly to himself – what did they think the vampires would do when the wizarding society treated them like that and the Dark Lord promised equality? He remembered what Voldemort had said when Harry had first woken up after that horrid night.

"_Since the Ministry discriminates dark creatures, they have fallen under my responsibility during the last decades, being the reason to why so many of them are my allies…_"

It was all too true, Harry though as he closed the now finished book. Society only had itself to blame. The only way to continue living a normal life would be to hide one's vampirism, which didn't seem all that hard, but it was still humiliating and discriminating to have to hide what you are. He fell back on the bed and brooded over it as he stared up into the ceiling, his mind descending in a spiral of dark thoughts.

There had always been a frame of how people should be, and you weren't accepted if you didn't fit in it. Just look at Luna back in school who was bullied just because she was different. Or Remus who'd had to quit his job at Hogwarts because people found out he was a werewolf. Not to mention himself, as his frame was even smaller when everyone had high expectations on him to act as the hero they all though he was. But he wasn't. He was but a normal teenager, at least until he was turned into a vampire. How could they have such high expectations of him?

Feeling rebellious and wanting to break free of the shackled of expectations, he got off the bed and walked up to the side table. After only an instant of hesitation he picked up the brown, indifferent-looking book.

**Ok, that's it. I'm off to read some sexy, smutty fanfic about Cloud and Seph, but before you can follow my good example you are going to review, aren't you? Yes, I though so ^^**


	5. Chapter 5

**Okay, so this chapter is a bit... random... at least in the beginning. ^^ Well, at least I had a lot of fun writing it! x)**

**Anyway, if you don't understand why Harry have been behaving the way he have, then the answer will be in this chapter, and if you still don't understand, just ask me, ok? ^^**

**So, on with the chapter!**

Harry sat on the edge of the bed, legs pulled up against his body and arms encircling them, his chin resting on his knees as emerald eyes stared unblinkingly at the brown, inconspicuous book laying open on the side table by the armchair. He'd picked it up and opened it, but only managed to read the first lines before he dropped it back down on the table. For several minutes he'd stood there, staring at the book, before reaching out to pick it up again.

For some reason unknown to him, he couldn't do it, and now he'd been sitting there, on the bed, and stared at the book for quite some time.

Deciding that he was being stupid, he got up from the bed and walked over to the side table and stared at the book. Nothing happened as several still moments of silence passed. Harry rolled his eyes at his own behaviour – or course nothing would happen! It was just a book, it wouldn't attack or something, even though it had seemed very possible that the book would bite his toes off when he'd first seen it.

His hand hovered over the book as if an invincible force kept him reaching it, but then he resolutely pick it up and continued reading where he had stopped.

"… _fear of society is springing from the lack of knowledge of these ancient arts that Dark Magic…_"

Harry slammed the book shut and banged it onto the table before resolutely marching back to the bed where he once again sat down to stare at the book with its brown covers. It was as if he was both very interested in reading the book and didn't want to have anything to do with it at the same time, and it obviously didn't work out. He let himself fall to the side, eyes fixed to the book, and continued his intent staring.

After a while he moved so that the legs lay behind him, his toes hanging just over the edge of the bed so that he lay outstretched across it, and he propped his head up on his arms. His mind swivelled with contradictive thoughts as he tried to decide what to do with the book. Minutes ticked by unnoticed before he heaved a sigh and rolled over, his head now hanging upside down over the edge of the bed and his arms flung out at his sides.

He vaguely observed that the book didn't look any different when he studied it up-side-down.

XXX

Voldemort was walking through the relatively narrow corridor, thinking of what Minxy and Snape had told him about Potter. Apparently the boy had buried himself in reading the past day, but he'd purposely avoided the book on dark arts. This had changed though, as Minxy had said that Potter had picked up the book only to put it down and then pick it up again when she'd come to get the dishes. Had it really been that easy to plant the seeds of doubt in the boy's mind?

He came to a halt outside of the door and opened it to the room that was far to warm for his liking, expecting to find the boy sitting in the armchair reading. When he found the armchair empty he first couldn't see where the boy was, but found him a moment later laying on his back on the bed, head sticking out over the edge and hanging up-side-down as he stared at the dark arts book that lay on the side table with an intent glare, as if the book was the cause of all the troubles in life. His torso was naked as he was only dressed in a pair of sweatpants, the lithe body with a hint of muscles just under the skin quickly regaining some strength now that he was properly fed.

"Having trouble, Potter?" he asked, not caring that his amusement could be heard in his voice.

Emerald eyes turned to him as the boy tuned his head a little, only enough to be able to see the Dark Lord. "Hey, you look better and better each time I see you," he commented lightly with a teasing smile.

Voldemort felt his amusement rise at the bold comment and decided that it had been a good decision to keep the boy alive if only because of his fearless attitude. "The form I took directly after the resurrection is not my real one, and so I'm slowly changing back with the help of potions," he explained, not sure why he cared if Potter knew or not.

"Nice, so… you're gonna look something like you did when you went released the Basilisk?" Harry asked in a carefree tone, his eyes flickering towards the book and then back again. The boy was distracting himself, Voldemort realised.

Of course he had heard everything about what had happened to his diary when Potter was in his second year, and he had punished Lucius quite severely for it. He didn't mention any of that though, and chose to direct the boy's thought towards something he himself found much more interesting. "When are you going to face your problem, Potter?" he inquired and the boy winced as he was reminded of what he had desperately tried to forget.

"You know what? I think the book is evil," the Boy-Who-Lived stated matter-of-factly, and Voldemort couldn't help himself as he snorted. The same boy who had met him, the Dark Lord, and consequently nearly been killed several timed, though a _book_ was evil?

"I swear it tried to chew my toes off yesterday," the boy continued, deadpanning. But Voldemort could see the mirth laughing in those green eyes, and shook his head with a barely visible smile.

To his surprise a loud thump was heard as Potter disappeared behind the bed, somehow managing to fall out in his shock at seeing the Dark Lord smile a real, genuine smile of amusement. Voldemort quirked a brow as a messy, black head peaked up from the other side of the bed, emerald eyes widened.

"You should have tried that earlier," he said, lifting his head enough to let his chin rest on the bed, the rest of his body still hidden from view.

"How so?"

"If you'd smiled like that at the graveyard I would have been too shocked to defend myself and you could have made me drop dead easier than ever," he reasoned and Voldemort shook his head as he felt his smile widen a bit.

A sudden pop made Harry jump in surprise as Minxy showed up with the usual platter of food, bowing deeply to her master.

"Minxy didn't know Master would be here, if Minxy had known she would have brought food for Master too," she apologized quickly, but Voldemort simply waved it away.

"You're not gonna eat?" Potter asked as the platter was put down before him, and he was already reaching out for the silverware, sniffing slightly as he enjoyed the smell of the food.

"I will eat later, Potter. Now eat your food – you need it."

The boy actually had the nerve to roll his eyes, not that it should have been surprising after all the things he'd already said, and then climbed back upon the bed to turn to the food to dig in. "Because I'm still supposed to be weak from the turning, right?"

"So you read the book, very good, Potter. I'd gotten the picture that you aren't the studious kind," Voldemort remarked, and Potter shrugged.

"There isn't really much else to do when I can't leave the room," he pointed out, emerald eyes glancing towards the window before he turned back to the food again.

"Yes, well I don't want the news about your vampirism spreading quite yet, not to mention that most death eaters think you are screaming under torture in some dungeon."

"Oh, really?" Potter mumbled with raised brows and shook his head in disbelief. "Why am I even surprised?"

Voldemort smiled slightly at the sarcasm that dripped from the words, and decided to keep the boy talking. It he warmed up to him, he might answer the questions that Voldemort had, but he couldn't push the teenager – he was, after all, trying to make the boy trust him. "Since we are already on the subject, I would like to know what you think about your lodging."

"Well, it's not too bad," Potter said in a tone of complete indifference, his nose in the air. "I guess it's better than the dungeon you mentioned…." Emerald eyes turned to the Dark Lord, and a big smile broke out over the teenagers lips. "Just kidding – it's really nice. I like the bed," he said honestly and bounced a bit where he said as if to make a point. He quickly had to stop though, as he made the platter move so much his glass of pumpkin juice almost spilled over.

Voldemort nodded and took a seat in the armchair before continuing with the small talk about the food, Minxy and the benefits of having a house elf. Potter finished his food and Minxy disappeared with the dishes, leaving the two wizards alone. Potter moved around on the bed until he leaned against one of the posters, now facing Voldemort as the Dark Lord led the conversation towards the book Potter had read. A discussion on vampires quickly ensued, and Voldemort let it go on for quite some time, talking about how Potter felt and if he'd noticed any changes.

He actually found it interesting to study the young vampire as he'd never had the chance to see the changes a newly turned vampire went though. Even though he'd read the books he still found it surprising that there were no real changes yet, since the boy hadn't fed on blood, but he noted that he no longer wore those old glasses and concluded that the vampirism must have fixed the boy's eyesight. Then he started asking the questions he was _really_ interested in.

"How long ago were you bitten, Potter?" asked Voldemort, leaving forward slightly.

"The night before you found me," he answered unsuspecting.

"Do you know who your sire is?" the question followed, as the Dark Lord watched intently after reactions from the boy.

Potter glanced at him, somewhat uncomfortable, but he answered anyway. "No, it was dark so I never got a good look at him."

"And he left you as soon as you were turned?"

A vague nod, followed by a heavy silence.

"Then I assume the turning was forceful, and yet you said your injuries weren't caused by your sire?"

No answer this time, not even a nod, as the boy stared down at the green bedspread, his fingers splaying out over the soft material.

"Then how did you contract such injuries? You see… I'm curious, since Severus also found out that you had very old injuries that hadn't been adequately tended to."

A narrow chest heaved as the boy took deep breaths, his expression pained and emerald eyes unfocused as he stared into the distant with an unseeing gaze, replaying what had happened in his mind. Voldemort was sorely tempted to simply use legimens on the boy to get the answer, but he restrained himself, knowing that such an action wouldn't exactly build any trust. He was already wondering if he had pushed the boy too far by probing.

A shuddering breath escaped between soft lips and Potter pulled at the bedspread, wrapping it around himself as if he was freezing, even though the room was hot. "I don't want to talk about it," he whispered, barely audible.

"It will help if you do," Voldemort pushed, not used to saying such gentle and caring things but hoping his efforts would make the boy turn to his side. He did have experience in talking people into believing him, after all, and this wouldn't be the first time he played on someone's feelings.

"Yeah, like you would care," came the disdainful answer, but his voice was week and uncertain.

"As a matter of face, I do," Voldemort answered, not sure if it was a lie of not. He wanted to know what had happened to the boy, but did he care for the boy's feelings or such? Surely not, since he'd never cared for another in his whole life.

The narrow chest heaved again as Potter took deep breaths, seemingly trying to collect himself. Then he looked up, his face uncertain and with a look as if he was on the wedge of crying, but those emerald eyes attached to his own red ones were filled with determination. When he began, his voice was wavering and he spoke quietly, but even when he hesitated he always continued in the end, resolved to finish.

"They always beat me, my uncle and cousin," he began and took a deep breath. "Dudley, my cousin, was there when…" A gulp. "… the vampire came. And… he got badly hurt, so my uncle was really pissed. So he beat me." The first tear welled over and trailed down a cheek, and Potter quickly wiped it off, only to have it followed by another. "He beat me so hard I though I was gonna die. I didn't want to die, I really didn't. And then he was- "A shuddering sob was heard before he could go on. "- he was dead!"

The boy pulled his legs up against his chest and hugged himself, burying his face behind his knees as the sobs made his shoulders shake. Voldemort watched in wonder, knowing that the crying should irritate him, and yet he wasn't bothered at all. Instead one single though was replaying in his mind.

"You killed him?"

A scattering sob was his answer, and Voldemort felt his eyes widen against his will as he saw the endless possibilities in the situation. The Boy-Who-Lived, the beacon of light, had actually killed a muggle. No matter that it was self-defence, the boy would still feel guilty by what he'd done, even though Voldemort couldn't see anything wrong with it.

He could see how the boy would feel disconnected to his old friends, thinking that what he'd done was unforgivable. That would also explain why the boy had been so detached these past days, not showing any proper reactions that proved self-preservation. The boy didn't care, didn't think it mattered since he didn't have anything to return to, no reason to live. Maybe he even tried to live somewhat normally, attempting to leave it all in the past.

If that was really the case, then to boy would be easily tuned to the dark side.

There was still one thing he didn't understand, though. As a Gryffindor and with the friends the boy had, shouldn't he trust Dumbledore and his Order blindly? Shouldn't he think that the old fool could fix anything? So then, why didn't he turn to them?

"Why didn't you turn to Dumbledore?"

The boy lifted his head and wide eyes glazed with tears stared at him, filled with distress. "Do you- do you think he would… forgive me?"

"I don't know," he answered, though he was quite sure they would since they didn't have much choice, not when the boy was their little saviour and all. But if Potter didn't think he had anywhere to return to, if he though his old friends and allies had turned their back to him, then Voldemort would gain from it, so he didn't say that.

Potter nodded solemnly, his eyes pained and a few sobs making his breath shudder. His eyes wandered to the side, becoming unfocused as he went into his own thought.

Deciding that it was time to use his final card, he got up from the bed and stalked over to the bed, where he stopped to place a hand at the boy's shoulder. Potter's head snapped towards him, and emerald eyes stared up in shock.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Harry," Voldemort said softly, and those confused eyes widened a fraction when the Dark Lord used his given name. "No one should judge you for wanting to live."

He gave the thin shoulder a reassuring squeeze before leaving, silently closing the door behind him. For now it would be best to leave the boy by himself, letting him think it all over and come to the right conclusions.

Sometime after lunch tomorrow he would see the boy again and continue building trust.

XXX

Harry still sat with is back against the poster with the bedspread wrapped around himself when Minxy popped into the room with dinner, looking worried when she saw his empty gaze and blank expression. He'd tried so hard to forget what had happened, to just leave it all behind, but it had all bubbled up to the surface again. His breakdown left him feeling empty like a hollow shell, his mind blank and numb as if everything inside had poured out with the tears and left him with nothing left.

He ate without tasting the food he knew should be delicious, and even though Minxy worriedly fussed over him, he didn't say a word. Snape arrived with the potion when he was about done with his dinner, and he took the potion absently, actually gaining a concerned look from the potions professor that he didn't notice.

Minxy tucked him in bed, noting how tired he seemed after the conversation with her master, and popped away with the dishes. Left alone in the darkening room, Harry curled into a tight ball under the covers, thoughts running though his mind without registering properly.

He thought about his friends and how they would react to what he'd done. How would they look at him? Would their eye hold shock, disappointment, hatred? Or forgiveness and understanding? Would they try to help him, or deem him worthy of the severest of punishments, of Azkaban, of the Dementor's Kiss?

Dumbledore, what would he do? Would he understand, would he come to help, to save him? Or would he, too, be disappointed after having put such great faith in him, only to be failed?

"_You didn't do anything wrong, Harry. No one should judge you for wanting to live."_

The words, softly spoken with conviction, echoed through Harry's mind, gracing him some peace and calm, enough to let him let go of the matter, at least temporarily, and go to sleep.

XXX

Harry was running, the surroundings blurring into nothingness as he passed. He didn't know where he was, where he'd been or where he was going except for a single, simple fact: he was going _back_. Back to where he came from, back to the people he knew, back to all that he was familiar with.

He could see them standing in the distance, an inviting crowd of people he knew and loved, and a smile broke out on his lips as he sped up and dashed towards them. He would finally be back, and everything would be fine again. What had happened the past days was just a bad dream, and now everything would go back to normal again – he was sure of it.

As he got closer he noticed that something was… off, and he slowed his pace until he came to a halt about five metres from them. The crowd didn't look as inviting anymore, it looked more as if they stood together to close him out, as it they ganged up on him.

And that's when he noticed their faces, all of them looking either fearful, disappointed of hating, and Harry felt their dark gazes pierce through him, the feeling so real he expected it to be followed by physical pain. Their judging eyes were fixed to him and he was filled with uncertainty. Wasn't everything going to go back to normal? Weren't they going to tell him that it was all going to be okay? Wouldn't they help him fix everything that had gone wrong?

Trying to get away from the gazed that seemed to bring physical pain he took a step back, but the action somehow seemed to break the spell, and Ron took a step forward. His freckles stood out against his pale face, blue eyes wide in horror as he stared at Harry in disbelief.

"How could you, Harry?" he whispered hoarsely, his voice slightly unsteady. "How could you let yourself be turned into a monster like that?"

Harry opened his mouth to defend himself, to say that he had fought against it but the vampire had been so fast, so strong and in the end he hadn't been able to do anything. But before he could utter a word Hermione stepped forward to stand beside Ron, her eyes hard.

"I don't understand it either, Harry," she stated in her logical, matter-of-factly tone. "It was just a vampire, surely it shouldn't have been so hard to defend yourself? You defeated Voldemort, didn't you? So why couldn't you take care of one single vampire?"

Harry made a strangled sound, wanting to tell them that he hadn't been able to, he hadn't even had his wand, but he couldn't seem to form the words, and then Molly Weasly stepped up to stand beside his two friends, her always so merry face holding a look of disgust.

"You were practically part of the family Harry. Think of everything we have done for you, and this is how you repay us? I though you were different."

"I can't believe it." Harry's head snapped to the side and he saw Sirius step forward, Remus at his side, the werewolf simply shaking his head in disbelief and disappointment while his godfather looked at him with hatred. "Lily and James's son, killing muggles? You are no better then You-Know-Who! You have no right to bear the name of Potter!"

"Harry." Dumbledore's voice was saddened and his eyes ad lost their twinkle, instead holding great disappointment.

Not being able to stand it anymore, Harry stumbled back, meaning to flee, when a long fingered hand came to rest on his shoulder. He whirled around and came to face Voldemort, red eyes gazing down at him with understanding and the half changed features soft. No harsh words came over those lips, no judgement was to bee seen in those eyes-

- and emerald eyes snapped open to stare at the only book left by Minxy in the room, laying on the side table by the armchair. It could only bee seen as a dark figure in the room that was scarcely lit by the silver moonlight that poured in through the window, creating rectangles of light on the wooden floor.

Harry threw the covers off, vaguely noting that it was too hot under them, and made his way to the armchair where he curled up, took the book and placed it against his knees before opening it to read in the light of the moon.

If his friends had rejected him, then there was no need to follow their expectations, and he could do whatever he wanted. The rebelliousness was strong in his heart, and doing something that was strictly forbidden made him feel oddly satisfied.

And so, emerald eyes swept through the lines, soaking up every word and memorizing their meaning tirelessly.

**I hope you enjoyed it people! I'm off to continue with chapter 7, so encurage me with your lovely reviews and it may go better for me! (I rewrote the beginning three times before I decided it was best as it was the first time =,=')**


	6. Chapter 6

**Oh, I managed to confuse myself with this one O,o I'd forgotten that Voldemort would peek in first after lunch and though it started in the morning… Just though I'd tell you so you don't make the same mistake! ^^**

**I must warn you all for a dream that will come in the end of the chapter – it's quite gross (I surprised myself with that one =S) **

The door opened to find a room bathed in sun, the dormer window opened to let in some of the fresh air of the finally cooling summer. The distant chirping of birds could be heard from the outside, along with the silent rustle of leaves as the breeze swept through the trees. The room itself was quiet, except from the deep and even snoozing from the teen in the armchair by the window. His head had rolled to the side, the mouth slightly open to let out the occasional soft snore, his face relaxed in his unbothered sleep. An arm dangled over the arm of the chair, the other folded in his lap where a brown, inconspicuous book lay open, its content anything but ordinary.

On the side table stood a silver platter with its cap on, to stop the food from cooling as Minxy had left the young man to sleep, the house elf instead opting to put a thin blanket over the sleeping form. The green fabric had slipped off when the boy had moved in his sleep, half of the blanket now pooling on the floor before the armchair.

It was quite fascinating, Voldemort decided as he watched the sleeping youth. How did he always manage to be the centre of untidiness when in a room that was otherwise orderly? The four poster bed was made, looking inviting with its plush pillows and thick cover. The drawers to the dresser were all closed, and the clothes it held were no doubt neatly folded. No dust could be found on the floor and the bathroom that could be seen through the slightly ajar door was cleaned until it sparkled.

Voldemort walked up to stand beside that armchair, so that he could look over the boy's shoulder to see how far the boy had read. To his great surprise he had only the last few chapters left, meaning he must have been up reading at least half of the night.

It surprised him greatly how easy it had been to turn the boy, to actually make him consider Dark Arts and what came with it. Surely it shouldn't have been this easy, not with that stupid Gryffindor loyalty the boy possessed. So how could it have happened so fast, in no more than a week? Maybe… maybe the boy had started questioning his loyalties himself? Maybe even before all this happen?

The thought was highly pleasing and Voldemort smiled at the sleeping boy's face, feeling pride awakening in his cold heart, the pride of having successfully completed a project of some sort. If the progress continued at this pace the boy would be a loyal follower in the coming three weeks, before the school even started. His smile widened and he chuckled quietly to himself.

Apparently the sound was enough to rouse Potter as the boy stirred, sleepy eyes opening and blinking lazily. He then stretched and yawned, his back popping as he massaged his neck, sore from having it tilted to the side for the few hours he'd been sleeping. Then those emerald eyes drifted off to the side and the boy saviour found the Dark Lord by his side, causing him to blink several times with a clearly confused look that was quite amusing, much like many other things the boy seemly did without thinking.

"I would recommend eating the food before it turns cold," Voldemort said, and the boy whipped around in the armchair to lift the cap. He sniffed the smell of the food happily and glanced at Voldemort out of the corner of his eye.

"You know, Minxy is really good at cooking," he remarked before putting the cap down on the floor as the side table wasn't big enough to hold both the platter and the cap, and then he dug in, humming in delight as he tasted the meal.

"I am aware," Voldemort answered dryly. "If she wasn't I wouldn't keep her."

"And she's good at cleaning," Potter said, gulping down a piece of the crisp fish that tasted absolutely heavenly. He held up his hand and started ticking off the things Minxy could do on his fingers. "And she's caring and good at making you feel guilty when you've done something wrong, and she's good at drying your hair – have you ever tried that, by the way? It feels really good! But I guess you haven't since you still haven't gotten all of your hair back…," Potter frowned at his, and then shrugged. "But really, I can see why you've never gotten yourself a wife! With Minxy doing everything you don't need one, do you?"

Potter gave him a teasing smile before going back to his food, leaving Voldemort to stare at him in disbelief. He quickly masked his expressions and shook his head slightly – really, the boy could be unpredictable like no other when he wanted to.

Deciding to take charge of the conversation, he brought up the topic he knew Potter couldn't match him in.

"I see you're reading _Introduction: Dark Arts,_" he said casually as he leaned back against the window, letting the breeze ruffle the little hair he had. The boy must be getting stronger if he could sit in only sweatpants with the window open without feeling cold.

Potter glanced at him before returning to his food, though he didn't eat as enthusiastically anymore, a short grumble being the only answer he gave.

"As I'm sure you have noticed, Dark Arts isn't about evilness or any of the kind, so I really can't see the prejudice you are still holding against it," Voldemort reasoned, and he saw the boy's shoulders tense as he sat a bit straighter. Had the boy perhaps already reflected over this, or did he find the words to be true against his will?

"Perhaps that prejudice of yours is based on the thoughts and expectations of others? You have, after all, only ever been informed by people with a clearly biased view of the Dark Arts, such as the Weaslys and Dumbledore," Voldemort continued, watching Potter's back for a reaction. The boy tensed further, actually putting the silverware down as if he'd lost his appetite.

"Of course," Voldemort continued, his voice persuasive. "You should not be blamed for this, since you have not been given that chance to create your own view in the matter. Therefore, I am willing to teach you about Dark Arts, and so enable you to get your own view of it."

He was met with silence as the boy sat perfectly still, his head slightly bowed as if he was trying to hide. Voldemort followed the intricate design of scars on the boy's bare back, deciding that Potter would do good with a bit more of muscles. The minutes passed by as the Dark Lord let the boy think it all over, while he hoped that he hadn't been to early, hadn't pushed too much too fast.

When Potter finally spoke he did so with thoughtfulness as he slowly worded his conclusions with care. "You are going to turn me into a follower. Into a darkwizard."

The words hung in the air and Voldemort smiled as Potter turned around in the armchair to stare at him, emerald eyes blaming but confident. The boy was not to be underestimated, as the vast changes of his life seemed to have thought him to contemplate matters and analyze the intentions of others, an important ability that Voldemort always had prided himself in possessing.

"Of course I will," Voldemort answered confidently and Potter's own confidence faltered a bit. "I do happen to be the Dark Lord after all."

Emerald locked with ruby, seemingly searching for something, and then Potter sighted and rubbed his face with his hands, letting his eyes stray back to the food.

"This… teaching," he mumbled and picked a bit in the food with the fork, the fish falling apart as he touched it. "What would you… we… do?"

Was the boy agreeing to it? Would it really be that easy? "Firstly it would require that you finish the book," he instructed and Potter looked down at the book in his lap, clearly having forgotten about it. "Then I would explain everything that needs explaining, such as thing you may not have understood or have further questions about. That should be enough as basic theory and after that we could continue by practicing the Arts."

Potter stayed silent for some time, mulling it over, and then nodded, the movement so small it was barely visible. "So… just reading in the beginning?"

"Yes, until you've finished the book, and I expect you to have done that by the end of the day", Voldemort clarified, and he saw how Potter cursed inwardly as he had apparently forgotten how much he'd already read. For a moment it seemed as if he would protest, but then his shoulders slumped and he sank further down in the armchair.

"Okay then," he muttered in resignation.

"Good, I will see you after dinner," Voldemort said, and before the boy could answer he'd crossed the room and closed the door behind him, a smile of victory on his face.

He had matters to attend to, and also had a problem that needed solving – how would they be able to practice Dark Arts when the room was too small and Potter couldn't leave it?

XXX

Harry dropped the book down on the side table and let his head fall back against the back of the armchair with a tired groan. He'd read the last pages while eating the dinner Minxy had brought, taking more time than really needed before finishing the book. Thoughts of what was to happen and what he'd agreed to had tumbled in his head, making him stare at the closed door as he tried to sort it out, tried to come to a conclusion to why he'd agreed to be taught Dark Arts from the Dark Lord. Voldemort's arguments had been part of it, but he'd also followed the course of thought that had made him pick up the book in the first place – the will to rebel and the need to create something for himself, something that wasn't dependent on others expectations.

But what had he really given himself into? Now that he thought about it, training Dark Arts with the Dark Lord seemed borderline suicidal, and he started worrying over his sanity. Sighting again, he banged his head against the back of the armchair, only gaining a soft _pooof _as result as the soft filling cushioned the bang. He groaned as he continued turning the matter over and over in his head, unable to decide if he'd done the right thing or not, if he should really do this or stop it as soon as he met with Voldemort.

At the same time he was a bit surprised, because it had all seemed so _simple_ when the book had explained the Dark Arts. There were no long, hard incantations, no gory rites or trials involving blood and pain – at least not most of the time. The daily Dark Arts that were more usual were not much different from normal magic, or Light magic as the book called it. You said a short incantation, sometimes moved your wand in a specific pattern, and that was it – just like Light magic. As he thought about it, he couldn't actually point out any _real_ differences except for those really Dark spells and hexes, such as Voldemort's resurrection before the summer.

With all these thoughts tumbling over each other inside the much too restricted area of his skull, it was no wonder he couldn't sort them out and decide what he really though about it all, and so he was still sighing and banging his head when the door opened to reveal the more and more human looking Voldemort in his black robes. Red eyes wandered the room, stayed on the book resting on the side table by the emptied platter, and then locked on tired emeralds.

"I take it you have read the book to its end?" he asked smoothly with an inquiring look, a swift flick of his wand conjuring an armchair identical to the one Harry sat in. Harry just nodded as answer as the Dark Lord sat down, making himself comfortable with one leg over the other and his fingers woven together in his lap, elbows resting on the armrests. He looked every bit the lord he was.

"Do you have any questions?"

Harry hesitated, still not sure if he should do this or not, but then nodded slowly, both to Voldemort's question and his own. "I don't really get what the difference between Dark and Light magic is," he said quietly, wondering what he would do if the answer was something horrible that he couldn't possible accept.

As it turned out, it wasn't, and Voldemort swiftly answered. "Dark hexes and spells do not always do different things from the Lights ones, but they are mostly stronger, more efficient and harder to ward against. Of course there are certain exceptions, but otherwise the Dark Arts is no different from the Light magic."

Harry nodded to show he understood the explanation, and they started discussing the book and what it said. The evening went into night as Harry asked new questions that popped up and Voldemort elaborated some parts where he thought the book had been to brief. The light from outside the window dimmed and slowly faded away to be replaced by darkness, cool air slipping in though the open window to banish the heat of the day.

Minxy popped in during their talking, bowed quickly before gathering the dishes silently and disappearing again, leaving them to their conversation. After some time the room had cooled enough for Harry to get goose bumps, and Voldemort quickly closed the window with a flick of his wand, to ensure that his still weak vampire didn't get cold, since that would slow the process of regaining strength.

They did not finish until Harry's eyelids became heavy and started sliding shut, great yawns breaking out of him even as he tried to hold them back. As he noticed how tired the teen was, Voldemort simply banished the armchair he'd conjured and told Harry to go to sleep since he would need the energy for the practical training tomorrow, and then wished a good night as he closed the door.

Happy to oblige, Harry went over to the bed and curled up under the covers, relishing in the soft and luxurious feel of the vanilla sheets. With a content hum he rubbed his cheek against the plush pillow before falling asleep.

Pale eyes stared at him, emptied and dull, yet blaming and filled with hate that seemed to burn his soul. He knew that those eyes couldn't blame, couldn't hate – after all, the one they belonged to was dead. The obese face with the many chins was sickly pale, a hue almost gray rather than white, and the skin itself looked more like wax that anything that had ever been alive.

The rest of the heavy boy seemed to pour out over the floorboards under it, as if the wax like skin could no longer keep the copious amounts of fat inside. Small, white worms were eating away at the body, slithering in and out of holes and open flesh wounds they had gnawed open. Flies circled over the body in a black, buzzing cloud, some landing to parade over the body or walk over the globes of the open eyes. The stench of rotten flesh was thick in the air, polluting it and making it impossible to inhale.

Yet a woman and a boy kneeled beside that corpse, holding each other as they cried, slowly rocking back and forth. The boy was just as fat as his dead father, the woman thin and fragile looking. They both looked broken and vulnerable, abandoned.

They turned to him and stared, stared with a hatred that brought him physical pain, but worst of all was the _blame_. The blame that told him he was responsible for this, for the collapse of their lives, and it made him unable to stand himself.

Others appeared behind the kneeling woman and son, faces he knew so well, people he had once loved and been loved by in return. Their eyes mirrored the hatred, the blame, and they all accused him of what he had done. They said he had no right to live, that he was the one who should have died instead of having kept on living. What right did he have to take another's life just to save his own?

Harry bolted upright in the bed, a hoarse scream tearing its way out of his throat only to be swallowed up by the silence and the stillness of the room. His fringe was plastered against his head due to the cold sweat, the sheets clinging to his body as if they tried to keep him in the bed against his will. The vivid pictures of the dream returned to him and he battered free to dash into the bathroom where he threw up in the toilet, his last meals disappearing down the drain.

He didn't know how long he kneeled on the cold floor by the toilet, now and then dry heaving, the acid taste of vomit filling his mouth. The images of Vernon's worm-eaten body, crowded with flies, swam before him and made him gag, and he went cold as he remembered the piercing glares of hate and blame that they had impaled him with.

Feeling miserable, he managed to drag himself to the hand basin to brush his teeth and rid of the awful taste. Not wanting to risk falling asleep again and return to the clutches of the dream he splashed freezing cold water in his face before he went back into the bedroom where he opened the window fully and curled up in the armchair, his body cold and tense, his heart hurting like never before.

A few dry sobs tore through the silence, but no tears came as the night went by and Harry desperately kept himself awake.

**Ok, this was a bit short, I know :( ****But the next chapter will be the longest so far! (I haven't finished it yet… =,=') **

**So, now I'm off to work like a slave (probably not) and finish chapter 7 to start with chapter 8 (hopefully)…  
(Though it's more likely that I'll take a shower and go back to reading my Jack Sparrow x Will Turner fanfic xP)**

**Wish me luck and Review, everybody! x) **


	7. Chapter 7

**Okay people, I know this is late and I already feel guilty about it *sad puppy eyes* But there are reasons except my lazieness to blame! Firstly, I went to a convention called Kultcon and was there for 2 days, and then I was (as always) very dead when I got back home. After that I met my friends twice, and yesterday I was with some other friends and played games all night long, so between yesterday and today I slept 2 hours. Really, I shouldn't even try writing since it would probably be fucked up anyway. **

**Due to all this, chapter 8 isn't finished (I've only written 3 pages + some notes) and when I started this story I told myself I wouldn't upload a new chapter if I didn't have a margin of already finished chapters as back-up. Well, now that margin is gone, people, and this might cause the chapters to be uploaded less frequently, since I'm writing the very same chapter it's time to upload. **

**Well, enough of my blabbering, you're probably not even interested, are you? SO; on with the chapter!**

The next morning found Harry cranky with a sore body, eyes feeling like they were filled with sand and a heavy head that threatened to give him a headache as soon as possible. He had only fallen into a light slumber once, and even then he had been haunted with blame, hatred and dead eyes with flies in them. The short recollection of the dream had served as a reminder and been enough to send him back on all fours before the toiled, dry heaving as he'd already disposed of everything his stomach held.

Even though he was tired, his stomach aching and empty, growling for food, he didn't want to sleep, didn't want to be forced back into those dreams. Really, he'd only been sleepless a single night, he shouldn't be this tired. Maybe it had something to do with his body still being a bit weak from the turning, even though that was several days ago by now. Fact remained, though, that he was tired and sore, and he could clearly feel the weakness that had subsided over the days slowly returning.

If he didn't activate himself somehow, he was sure to fall asleep any minute.

Luckily, Minxy popped in just moments later with the breakfast, and he dug in with purpose, hoping the energy of the food would be enough to keep him up throughout the day. The house elf didn't say anything about the open window as she had noticed that he was getting stronger by the day, but she fussed over him for looking tired and said he slept far too little for someone who was ill – as if he was suffering from a normal cold or something.

As his body started taking up the nutrients of the food the aching of his stomach gradually eased and he felt a bit of energy returning. After a while he didn't feel all that bad, only a bit tired and sluggish, but that was understandable. He still felt like he needed something to do in order to stay awake, and therefore it was a great relief when the door opened to reveal the Dark Lord in his usual black robes.

By now the man looked almost completely human, with sharp but handsome angles of his face and dark brown, slightly wavy hair. Those eyes were still as piercing and red as ever, looking every bit as if the iris had been drenched in the blood of his victims. Strangely enough, those eyes didn't seem to scare him anymore; it was almost as if he had gotten used to them during the days that had passed.

Said eyes gave him an inquiring look as if they could see through his act of normality, but Voldemort didn't comment on it, instead opting for stating that they were to start with their practical training.

Harry's conflicting feelings returned, but Voldemort took no heed to them as he swiftly continued.

"As you surely understand, this room is far too small to be used when practicing Dark Arts," he began, and Harry blinked in surprise – he hadn't thought of that, but now that the Dark Lord had said it, it was obviously true. "Since my followers happen to think you're chained in the dungeons and not enjoying life in one of my guest rooms, I can't have you wander the mansion and risk being seen. Therefore, I have decided to put a glamour on you, so that we can move freely to and from the hall where we will be training," Voldemort stated.

Harry blinked in surprise, his tired mind slowly processing the words. He'd read about glamours in class but he'd never used it or seen it being used, so he didn't have any idea of how you did.

It did seem like a good idea though, as it would enable him to wander freely instead of being closed up in this room that seemed smaller by the day – he hadn't really noticed how much he wanted to get out until the opportunity was presented to him, as if he'd repressed the longing because it couldn't be fulfilled. He nodded, since the Dark Lord seemed to be expecting an answer, and was just about to ask what he was supposed to do when Voldemort pulled out his wand and approached.

Tensing against his will, Harry eyed the wand that was a twin to his own as Voldemort came up to him, stopping first when he stood right before the armchair where he sat. The wand was raised above the black, messy hair and Harry mentally prepared himself for whatever might come – for him, being on the receiving end of Voldemort's wand had only resulted in pain.

Then the wand came down to rap over his head, and he yelped in surprise. Immediately after it felt as if something was running down his back, making him shiver, and his skin seemed to tingle unpleasantly, feeling a bit as if it had contracted and grown too tight. He didn't feel all that different, though, and started wondering if anything had really happen when Voldemort stepped to the side so that he could see his own reflection in the mirror that stood in the corner at the other side of the room.

In the reflection, there was someone else sitting in the armchair with one of his legs folded under him and the other stretched out before him, with a dumb, gaping expression on his face. He was slightly taller than Harry, but still a few centimetres under average length, had shoulder length, honey-blonde hair and a normal looking face with dull, blue eyes. The silence filled the room as Harry stared into those blue puddles that looked just like that – shallow puddles of slightly muddy water, but no real depth in them, not at all like his own green eyes that often seemed to sparkle with life.

"That's… me?" he whispered hesitantly, and the lips of the stranger moved as he formed the words.

"Yes. No one will be able to recognize you when under the glamour, so you will be able to move freely. I will not allow you to under any circumstances leave the mansion grounds, is that clear?" Voldemort said sharply, and Harry felt the red eyes bore into the side of his now blonde skull, but merely nodded, to captivated by his new outward look.

As a new though it him, Harry raised his hand and swept the long hair out of his face to bare his forehead… and a smile spread over his face, a smile he felt was genuinely his even though he didn't recognize the lips forming it.

_It _was gone. No more scar to let the world know who he was. No more mark burdening him with the future of the world. No more brand binding him to the expectations that everybody put on their so called saviour, a saviour who was actually no more than a fifteen year old boy who wanted nothing more than to be released from all that, to be allowed to live a normal life the way he wanted. And now, all that was gone together with the scar. The feeling of relief filled him and made him feel light like a feather, as if he would be able to float in mid air, weightless. A somewhat dull spark could be seen in those shallow puddles that were now his, and he decided that he could get used to looking like this, even if it was only to get rid of the scar.

"I take it you like the glamour?" Voldemort asked lightly, amusement in his voice, and blue eyes turned to him, accompanied with that wide smile. Taking the expression as a yes, he continued. "Good, then you should dress before we leave; I believe there are some robes in the dresser for you."

Harry blinked, and then smiled at his own foolishness – had he really expected there to be a dresser filled with only sweat pants? Slightly shaking his head at his own thoughts he got up from the armchair and went over to the dresser, where he opened the upper drawer only to find it filled with underwear, tank tops and sweatpants. The second drawer proved to hold the promised robes, all of them black with simple but elegant cuts, and he quickly put one on before discarding the sweatpants over the arm of the armchair. Out of curiosity he opened the third and last drawer, and found a pair of sneakers and a pair of formal shoes, and beside them, neatly folded, was his fathers invisibly cloak and his broom, though the later was shrunken to fit the size of the drawer.

During the days spent in the room he hadn't though about what had happened to his things, but he was greatly relieved that they were there, safe and still his.

"Take your wand and follow me," Voldemort instructed, clearly tired of waiting, and Harry quickly grabbed his wand from the nightstand beside the bed before it hit him why he hadn't used it before.

"Won't they be able to track me if I use magic?" he asked uncertainly, his fear of being found immediately returning.

"You actually think I would let you use magic if they could?" Voldemort asked coldly. "No, Potter. The wards surrounding the mansion disable all means of tracking, so you can use magic freely as long as you are within the grounds."

"Wait…" Harry stared at the Dark Lord as the older man walked up to the door and opened it before looking back at the teen with a brow raised in question. "You mean I could have used magic as much as I wanted all this time? And you didn't tell me?"

The Dark lord looked faintly amused at his disbelieving look but didn't answer the question. Instead he walked out through the door and Harry was left with no choice but to follow him or be left behind, something he didn't want to risk now that he could finally get out of the room and see the rest of the mansion.

They walked in silence through a dark corridor before they came out on top of a pair of grand stairs that overlooked the entrance hall of the mansion with one great, white pillar on each side of the double doors that led outside. Large windows allowed the sun to pour in and showed a beautiful garden overflowing with flowers.

"Wow," Harry breathed as he stopped at the top step, hand resting on the balustrade. "I expected it to be… different. Darker."

The Dark Lord stopped where he was a few steps further down and turned to look at Harry, once again one of those dark brows risen. "That is what everyone expects, and therefore they would never think of searching for the Dark Lord in a place like this. If I did live in a dark and scary mansion with bats hanging from the trees, then I might as well put up road signs telling everybody where I live."

Harry laughed as he imagined a road sign saying _Dark Lord's Mansion, 3 km_. He was quickly drawn from his amusing thoughts though, as Voldemort led him down the stairs to the bottom floor and over the white marble so polished you could see a diffuse reflection of yourself in them. At the end of the hall they turned into a wide corridor that went through the west wing, its arched windows overlooking the garden on one side and closed doors leading into hidden rooms on the other side. Voldemort stopped outside one of those doors and opened it, revealing a hall with marble floor and white walls, completely emptied of furniture and with windows overlooking the expanse of grass and the distant forest that Harry could see from his own room.

"We will begin with a simple blasting spell that is not much different from _bombada_ but is much stronger and will quite literally blast _anything_ into pieces that one won't be able to put together again with a simple _reparo_," Voldemort began and easily conjured a dummy that vaguely had the form of a human, but didn't resemble one enough to disturb Harry.

They quickly went to work, and Harry started practicing on the dummy as soon as Voldemort had shown him the slight wand movement and taught him the right pronunciation of the spell. He had somewhat expected it to feel different to use dark spells, as if the very magic used for them would be polluted in some way, but he soon realized that that wasn't the case – it felt perfectly normal, like casting any other spell.

The realization swept his hesitation and uncertainty to the side, and he soon found him self unbothered by the face that the spell he was practicing had been labelled as 'dark'.

XXX

Voldemort watched attentively as the boy slowly improved, the dummy actually ripping in some places instead of just shaking a bit when the spell hit it. But his concentration was far from focused on the dummy – instead he chose to watch the boy as he threw the spell over and over, an intent look on his face.

The glamour was the opposite of Potter's real looks in order to make him look as different as possible and just as hard to recognize. The black hair was longer and blonde, the vivid green eyes a dull blue that held a slight shine to them at the boy's excitement, and he looked longer than before. The Dark Lord felt himself missing the normal appearance of the boy, but immediately told himself it was stupid – it was still the same boy, still the so called saviour that he was now turning dark.

The though made him smile darkly as the feeling of dirtying something pure welled up inside. Who would have though that a twist of fate had Harry Potter turned into a vampire, only to be found in the hands of the Dark Lord? It was just too easy, and he wondered why the Ministry or the Order hadn't been able to find the boy.

The sound of the dummy ripping tore him from his musings and he turned to the dummy to see its "head" hanging loosely, barely attached to the rest of it. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Potter's smug expression, and quickly repaired the dummy to its previous state. Potter rewarded him with a grumpy glare, his mouth forming a pout, before the teen went back to shooting the spell at the dummy.

It was surprising how easily the boy had been turned, but Voldemort knew he couldn't take all the credit for that. There had, after all, been enough doubt in the boy's mind to run away instead of staying behind to wait for his friends when he had accidentally killed his uncle, and that alone proved that the boy did no fully trust the old fool and his friends anymore. Voldemort frowned slightly at the though, trying to come up with an answer to why the boy wouldn't trust them anymore, when something the boy had said hit him.

"_They always beat me…"_

So the beatings had obviously been something happening repeatedly, and the malnourishment and old wounds proved that it had been ongoing through a long time – and yet Dumbledore had left the boy to those muggles? Surely the old fool knew what the boy had gone through when in the care of the muggles, so why had the man let it happen? Why hadn't the good-doer saved the boy from the pain as he should have if following his own beliefs?

Only one answer reached him, and it was both pleasant and unpleasant at the same time – pleasant because it proved he had always been right about the old man, unpleasant because it showed he could no longer trust the man's way of thinking, which would make it harder to manipulate and calculate his moves.

But the answer was simple, shockingly so – Dumbledore had known, and he hadn't tried to stop it because he had meant for it to happen. He had steeled the boy, trained him mentally for the task of killing, and made him dependent on the old fool. To bad for him, that very treatment planted the seeds of distrust in the boy's mind, and his weapon would come back to stab him.

That though was mightily pleasant, and Voldemort pictured the scene where Potter turned on his old friends and killed Dumbledore. _I must remember to thank the old fool next time I see him_, Voldemort though with glee. _If it hadn't been for him, this wouldn't have been so easy. _

At that moment, Potter cast the spell once more, and the dummy exploded in millions of tiny bits and pieces that slowly fell towards the floor all around them. The boy held a look of pure shock on his face, clearly not having expected the spell to be quite so efficient, but the shock was soon battled by triumph as a smile spread over his lips, the otherwise dull eyes suddenly sharp and shining with the excitement of success.

Yes, the old fool had done a good job with the boy, and how he would regret it.

XXX

After several hours of practicing, with lunch as the only break, Harry was exhausted and felt weak as if drained from all his magical resources. He felt proud, though, as he had both learnt the blasting spell and how to easily conjure something akin to the dummy to practice on, since Voldemort wouldn't have the time to be there for very long tomorrow, with death eater meetings and such.

Now that he had time on his own, Harry had though of taking a stroll in the garden and explore the expanse of grass that surrounded the white mansion, but he found himself being to tired to do any such ting, and instead decided to get back to his room. It took the opening of six doors and two wrong turns into unfamiliar corridors before he found his way back, and as soon as the door had closed behind him, he threw his wand at the bed and took off his cloths before he went into the bathroom and turned the water on. He sat in the tub, its white ceramic cold against his naked skin, and he shivered slightly as the waterline of heat slowly rose around him. The warm water relaxed his weary body and his tired mind slowly came to rest. For a few minutes he lay there, lazily watching the steam that filled the room, before he washed himself in earnest, remembering what Minxy had said about falling asleep in the bath.

He heard the bedroom door leading to the corridor outside open and went quiet as he tried to hear who it was, and he was soon awarded by Snape's cold, uncaring voice drifting thought the closed bathroom door.

"Potter?"

"Coming!" Harry shouted back, figuring the man was there with the Blood Replacement potion and that he shouldn't make him wait with risk for his own health. He quickly got out of the bath, immediately missing the soothing warmth of the water, and hastily dried himself off before wrapping one of the towels around the waist. The steam welled out into the bedroom when he opened the door, and was met with the black stare of his potions professor, the familiar potion in his hand as Harry had expected.

Black eyes swept over his exposed body, still wet from the bath, before snapping to his face that was surrounded by blonde, dripping hair. For a moment, the potions master seemed to at a loss of words, and Harry gave him a quizzical look, not at all understanding what had shocked the seemingly unmovable man, until an unexpected question spilled out over thin lips.

"Who are _you_?"

Harry stared at the bat-like man, his mind completely empty as all thoughts came to a complete halt. "What?" he asked, not believing what he'd heard. Why wouldn't Snape recognize him?

As answer to his question Snape raised his wand and pointed it between Harry's eyes, the black orbed filled with barely concealed suspicion. Harry stared at the wand, its tip so close his eyes crossed as he looked at it, and he moved uncertainly, uncomfortable at the receiving end of the potion master's wand. He caught a movement somewhere to the side, behind Snape's black clad figure, and turned his eyes to check what it was in hopes of being saved – hopefully it would be Voldemort.

Instead of seeing red orbs of blood he was met with mist filled blue ones, and realization struck him as he remembered that he was still under the glamour and Snape actually couldn't see him, but saw a blonde boy who didn't look anything like Harry Potter. So how was he supposed to explain himself, when Voldemort obviously hadn't said anything? He didn't even know how to heave the glamour to prove his point if Snape didn't believe him!

"I asked you a question, brat," Snape hissed, and Harry quickly raised his hands and turned his blue eyes to his professor.

"It's me! Okay, just me, so could you lower that, professor?" he rambled, not registering what he was blurting out, just hoping it would save him from being fried.

"What are you on about you insolent-?"

"Lower your wand, Severus."

Harry's head snapped up to look over his professor's shoulder where he saw Voldemort standing in the threshold, calm and collected, with full authority even though he didn't raise his voice when issuing the order. Bloodied eyes met blue puddles, and Harry though he'd never been so happy to see a human being before.

"Wipe that giddy expression off your face, Potter, it's unbecoming of you," the Dark Lord stated as he wandered into the room, and Harry quickly made an innocent look with big, dull eyes that mirrored empty stupidity, so far from his real green eyes as could be. Voldemort raised a brow at his expression and shook his head slightly before tapping his wand over the blond, long locks, and Harry expected the tingly feeling to return. Instead, it felt as if water was running off him without wetting him, simply washing over his skin. He shivered at the unfamiliar feeling before looking up at the mirror, and he smiled as he was his old, scrawny self; it felt somewhat good to be back to normal, even if the anonymity of the glamour had been liberating.

As he turned back to the room, he caught an expression of utter shock on the usually so blank face of his professor, the thin-lipped mouth slightly open and wand held loosely in his hand that dangled at his side, the potion in his other hand. Then he closed himself up once again, and his wand slipped inside his robes and out of sight as black eyes turned to the Dark Lord.

"May I inquire of why Potter was under glamour, my Lord?" he asked in a tight voice, as if he had a hard time keeping his feelings in check.

"I am training Potter in the Dark Arts, and needed to put him under glamour to enable him to walk around the mansion without being recognized by death eaters," Voldemort answered shortly before he turned ruby eyes to the mentioned teen. "Put some clothes on, Potter."

The sudden change of subject made Harry blink in surprise before he realized that he stood before them with only a towel around his waist, and the blood flooded his face, immediately turning him beet red. Ducking his head to hide his flushed face behind the black fringe, he made a beeline for the dresser where he grabbed a pair of boxers and sweatpants, before he dashed into the bathroom and slammed the door behind him.

Damn, why had that been so embarrassing? He hadn't had a second though about it when the glamour was still there – was that because he knew that they couldn't really see him, so what did it matter what they saw? But still, he'd been walking around in only sweatpants for several days now, and the difference wasn't that big; his upper body was just as bare. Maybe… it had to do with the face that he was dripping wet from the shower…?

He quickly battered the though away and went to the basin to splash some cold water in his face before he dried himself off and got dressed. Jus as he was about to leave the bathroom he stopped in front of the mirror and stared into his own emerald eyes, vivid and swirling with life. Even though the famous scar once again peeked out between the black locks, a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and he decided he liked his eyes just the way they were, even though he understood that it would be much easier to hide behind those shallow puddles of blue.

When he exited the still steamy bathroom, Snape had left and Harry found the potion waiting in the hand of the Dark Lord who leaned comfortably against one of the posters of the bed. He wordlessly held out the potion to Harry, who grabbed it and downed it with practiced ease, just as he had the passed days. Unbothered by the presence of the Dark Lord, he then flopped down on the bed, stretched out and yawned.

"You did good today," Voldemort said smoothly, and Harry turned his head to look at the man in surprise. "We will continue tomorrow, but I will not be able to supervise you for more than a few hours, then you'll have to train on your own."

The Dark Lord turned his head to look at Harry, and emerald locked with ruby. Silence reigned in the room, as it so often did, as if the very room was the kingdom of stillness. Then Voldemort pushed away from the poster and went to the door, where he came to a stop with his hand resting on the handle.

"You seem to have regained your strength, Potter. You are no longer weakened by the turning."

XXX

He was running again, well aware that this had happened before but yet not sure of what had happened or when it had happened. Something was pursuing him, he could feel it in his whole being, in the hairs rising in his neck, the crawling in his skin, the fear clamping down on his heart and the chills running down his spine.

He had to get away.

The dark, disfigured forms of houses, cars and garbage bins flittered past him, too fast to be properly registered in his panicked mind. The street was black under him, a ribbon of blackness making its way between then lots with their fences and hedges, the neatly mowed lawns and the driveways with the cleaned cars. The ribbon of black asphalt disappeared under him, his only connection with it being his feet that thrummed over the ground faster then strictly possible.

He knew that the hand stretched out to him before he felt the fingertips touch the bare skin of his neck, and then the fingers grabbed his hair and yanked hard, making him fall backwards into a hard chest, his back resting against a cool body without warmth. Arms wrapped around him, one enclosing his waist and effectively catching his arms, the other grabbing his chin with cold fingers to force his head to the side, leaving his neck easily accessible.

Cold, clammy breath ghosted over the side of his neck, making the fine hairs stand at attention and hunting a shiver down his spine. A slimy tongue swept over his neck, lapped at the skin, and he shuddered in repulsion, making the monster behind him chuckle darkly with audible enjoyment. Lips closed over the pulsating vein in his neck, making the blood rise to the surface to create a purple mark just under his skin.

The monster behind him pressed him closer so that he was firmly trapped against the hard chest, and the monster let out a pleasured moan. A hard bulge poked Harry in the lower beck, and the monster started grinding himself against him, the bulge growing under the friction. Realizing what was happening, Harry started flailing, attempting to get away, to flee, but his efforts were stopped abruptly as fangs pierced his neck, tearing a scream of pain from his throat.

A moan lazed with pleasure vibrated though the monster's throat as he closed his lips around the bleeding punctures and started sucking, the ruby blood disappearing down his throat in deep gulps. The grinding against his back became more frenzied and Harry felt his cheeks growing wet with tears due to the shame, the pain and the utter humiliation of the situation. The world slowly darkened, the misty blackness creeping in from the corners and edges before taking over completely.

The last thing he felt was the monster's pants becoming wet against his back as the vampire spilled his seeds.

When he opened his eyes the next time, he was running again. His legs held his weight effortlessly, his feet barely connecting with the ground as he seemed to fly passed the blurred structures of buildings. His eyes were focussed on the figure up ahead, the details of the lanky young man clear to him through his sharp seeing, the harsh breathing sounding as if it was breathed right into his sensitive ears.

His prey was fast, but not fast enough, and he had soon caught up. He leapt though the air with gracious speed and landed on the back of his pray, the boy his own age now tumbling to the ground with a panicked yelp. Harry smiled excitedly as he straddled the other, grabbing red hair to forcefully turn his head to the side and expose the neck.

A face filled with freckles was screwed up in horror but it didn't stop Harry from bending down and licking the neck once before sinking his fangs into the inviting flesh, relishing in the pained gasp of his victim and sweet taste of blood.

Harry awoke with a gasp and immediately had to cover his mouth with his hand to stop himself from throwing up in the bed. He literally threw himself out of the bed and dashed into the bathroom, and he barely made it to the toilet before his stomach turned and he got up the dinner Minxy had given him after Voldemort had left.

Ron's face hovered before him, pale under the freckles with blue eyes filled with horror and disgust. The dream was so clear, so vivid. Ron had shuddered in repulsion, tried to get away, screamed – and he, Harry, had enjoyed it.

**Poor Harry, all angsty :'( **

**Well, now the Dark Arts training have started out, and Harry's glamour have been presented! Woho~! x) **

**Oh, and chapter 8 might be done to the next weekend, but don't be surprised if it doesn't show until the weekend after that. (I already explained why in the A/N at the top) **

**All you can do for now is to review! **


	8. Chapter 8

**Ok, people, it turned out you didn't have to wait two weeks for the next chapter! ^^ Luckily, I suddenly felt like i really really wanted to write, so... here it is! x)**

Over the next couple of days, Voldemort barely had the time to see Potter beyond the short moment in the morning when he put the glamour over the boy and then the equally short moment when he dispelled it. One of the days he instructed Potter for an hour to show him some new spells and hexes he could practice, before leaving him to train by himself; the day after he barely had time to check in to see if the teen had any questions.

It was a hectic time with briefings, plans to be made and set in motion, orders to be handed out and much, much more, and all this left the Dark Lord with little time too see to his little vampire. Even so, he had Snape and Minxy report to him on daily basis after having seen the boy, and what they said confirmed what he himself could see during the few moments with the teen.

Potter was growing weaker again, and it seemed he did not sleep properly if the dark shadows under his eyes, blue or green alike, were something to go by. He also proved to have a hard time concentrating, and he did not learn as quickly. To add to the list was the fact that the boy did not eat properly anymore, in difference to the great appetite he had shown the passed days.

Voldemort could only speculate as to what had brought these changes, and the only reason he could find was the glamour and the training in Dark Arts, but none of them should harm the boy physically. That left only one option – it was that stupid Gryffindor loyalty that made Potter feel guilty over training Dark Arts, but not even that explanation seemed to quite fit, as the teen had not seemed to have any such troubles during their first training session.

Irritated that he could not wrap his mind around the problem, Voldemort made his way to Potter's room, intent on finding out what had happened so that he could fix it. As it was now, Potter's Dark Arts training and consequently also his turning to the darkness was slowed down, and that was unacceptable.

When he opened the door to Potter's room, as he now called it, he expected to find the boy awake, kept from sleep by whatever insomnia hunted him. Instead he found him sitting in an awkward position in the armchair, his scarred body shivering from the cool air seeping in through the open window. The green eyes were closed, hidden by eyelids, but his sleep was clearly not the deep and undisturbed one the boy needed.

The narrow chest heaved as Potter's breathing came sharp and uneven and he threw his head from side to side, the black hair glued to his damp forehead. Debating weather to wake him or not, Voldemort closed the door behind himself and slowly walked over to the troubled teen, his steps quiet against the floorboards. He never got to decide what to do as green eyes filled with horror suddenly snapped open, and before he had any chance to react, the boy pushed past him and into the bathroom where he knelt in front of the toilet, dry heaving and coughing up mucus, clearly proving that he hadn't eaten any since there was nothing in his system that he could get up.

Voldemort wrinkled his nose slightly at the smell, but walked over to the boy anyway, well aware that Potter was vulnerable for the moment and therefore it would be easy to gain his trust. Keeping that in mind, he crouched down beside the boy and lowered himself to the human level by acting empathetic and deciding he would torture the boy if he didn't turn dark after all this.

Unused to any such action, the Dark Lord reached out and put his hand on Potter's back, gently stroking it in a reassuring way, as if wanting to show that he was there. Wide, green eyes turned to him, the surprise evident in them as the falling saviour stared at his supposed enemy. Then he averted his eyes, ashamed that he had shown himself in such a way, and he curled up with his legs against his chest, hugging himself with thin arms as the returning weakness made him tremble slightly even though the temperature of the room was quite nice.

Not sure of what he was doing or why but deciding it was all to gain Potter's trust, Voldemort scooped the boy up in his arms and held him close to his own body, the body in his arms feeling frail and all to easy to break, even though he had experienced how hard it was to kill the boy several times. Potter went rigid in shock and Voldemort expected him to pull away any moment when the vampire in the boy reacted to the warmth of another living being, and the thin body relaxed.

Voldemort froze, unsure of what to do in such an unfamiliar situation, with his greatest enemy leaning against his chest, pressing slightly against him as the vampire instincts kicked in and told him to seek warmth. Looking around the room, Voldemort decided that the cold tiles of the bathroom floor weren't exactly optimal when the boy needed warmth. Without putting any further though into it, and _definitely not_ thinking that it felt good to have the boy close, he lifted the boy who yelped softly in surprise and carried him into the room where put him down on the bed.

To his surprise, the boy immediately moved to get out of the bed, but he quickly grabbed his ankle and dragged him back, where he pulled Potter to his chest and held him close, and arm wrapped around the thin waist to keep him in place.

"No," Potter whined, squirming as he tried to free himself. "No, I can't sleep! Please, don't make me! Don't make me sleep!"

Voldemort watched in surprise as crystal clear tears welled over and trickled down the face, a sob escaping between trembling lips. Not reflecting on what he was doing he raised a hand and softly stroked the messy locks, calming the boy. The squirming stopped and Potter once again leaned heavily against him, his instincts to seek warmth winning over his tired mind.

"Why can't you sleep?" Voldemort mumbled, making his voice soft and gently to sooth the boy, knowing he needed to keep the boy calm both to get the answers he wanted and to fulfil his bigger goal of coaxing the boy to his side.

"The dreams…"Potter whispered, a sob breaking through in the middle of the sentence. "They're only getting worse."

"Tell me about them?" Voldemort asked, the question sounding like something between a plead and an order.

Potter shook his head almost desperately, and Voldemort sighted quietly. If he was going to calm the boy down, so that he could start sleeping and eating again, so that he could regain strength and become a strong vampire who could practice Dark Arts, then he had to know what troubled the boy, and knowing that he had dreams wasn't enough.

A quick and simple solution struck him, and he felt himself itching to do it, but if he didn't get the boy's permission, it would ruin the trust he had managed to build so far. But if he got Potter's permission it would be even better, since it would make the boy more likable to do agree to it again, later.

"Harry," he mumbled, knowing he had to sound as if he was only doing this to help and not for any other reason. "Would you show them to me?"

Potter lay quiet, the trembling of his body having stopped as he calmed down and was warmed up. For a moment it almost seemed as if he had fallen asleep.

"How?" he whispered, uncertainty lacing his voice.

"It's called Legilimency, Harry, and it allows me to search through your memories. But I promise I will not under any circumstances look at anything but your dreams. Is that okay, Harry?"

Voldemort waited silently, well aware that Potter would never agree to such a thing – under normal circumstances, that was. Now that he was weakened and in emotional distress, with only him, Voldemort, to lean against, there was a small chance that he might agree. If the boy didn't agree, then the Dark Lord would have to drop it and come up with a new solution.

"Okay."

The world was whispered so quietly Voldemort thought it was his wishful fantasy playing pranks on his at first, but then Potter turned to him and vivid green locked with ruby. Without further ado, Voldemort plunged into the boy's memories and found the dreams almost immediately, as they were in the forefront of Potter's mind.

He was shunned by his very own friends, and then saved by Voldemort. The next moment he was hunted, panic flaring in his chest, only to turn into the hunter and bite his best friends, relishing in the taste of his blood. Then he was walking through the corridors of Hogwarts, everybody laying dead on the floor, their bodies sucked dry, and he knew that he was the one to blame for it. Then Dumbledore walked around a corner, his wand raised, and the old man uttered the forbidden words, a green light tore through him-

Voldemort was sorely tempted to look at other memories of his former enemy's life, but gently pulled out of Potter's mind, and found the boy clinging to him as sobs shook his frail body violently, the tears pouring down his cheeks. The Dark Lord gently threaded his long fingers through the black mop of hair while Potter cried against his robes, and with his free hand he stroked soothing circles over his back. After a while the sobs subsided and the tears dried on the cheeks, and Potter fell asleep as days without proper sleep and emotional distress overcame his will.

Watching the face of the boy who had been his greatest enemy for fifteen years, relaxed by sleep and seemingly innocent, Voldemort couldn't stop his mind from forming the highly forbidden though that it felt good to have the boy in his arms. Many years had passed since he had enjoyed any physical contact whatsoever, and now he was relishing in the feeling of the smaller body pressed against him, held securely in his arms.

Taking a deep breath to gather himself and strictly banishing the forbidden thoughts that were signs of the weakness called feelings, Voldemort gently put the boy down on the bed, his head sinking down into a plush pillow. He stroked a few black locks from the peaceful face before pulling up the covers too keep the boy warm, and then closed the window with a flick of his wand.

He contemplated leaving, since he had the day booked with meetings, but just as he rose from the bed, Potter whined softly and weak fingers closed around the sleeve of his black robe. Voldemort slowly sat down again and the boy relaxed, leaving the Dark Lord with the conclusion that it would be best to stay – Potter would, after all, need someone to guard against the dreams, and this time spent sitting on the bed would be an investment in the future where Potter was one of his followers.

Snapping his fingers he summoned Minxy, who immediately started fussing over Potter in her usual motherly way, obviously having grown attached to the boy. He quietly ordered her to contact Lucius with orders that all meetings for the day were to be closed, and to tell Snape to start brewing a Dreamless Sleep potion for Potter. Once the house elf had left, after assuring that everything was fine and that they did not need anything for the moment, Voldemort moved a bit until he sat more comfortably and put his mind to work so that he wouldn't waste the day completely.

After a moment, the boy rolled over to the side so that he lay facing the Dark Lord, the thin body nuzzled against his back. Voldemort stared at the teen in utter shock for a moment, so disturbed by the sudden change in position that he was unable to continue his silent scheming. As the minutes passed and the boy lay still, he slowly continued forming his strategies.

He was unaware that his hand was resting on the back of the boy, gently stroking soothing circles again.

XXX

His throat was dry as if he hadn't gotten anything to drink in several days, making it sore and aching. His whole body was screaming, longing for something that would sate the intense thirst, but he didn't know what it was. Curling into himself he raised his hand and scratched his throat with his nails, somewhat hoping that the pain would make the thirst go away. Harsh gasps escaped him as his thin chest heaved with the effort of drawing air into his lungs, quiet whimpers coming from his dry mouth.

A hand with long fingers was placed on his shoulder and turned him to lay on his back, the touch making his eyes snap open, desperation and need swirling openly in the green depts. The Dark Lord was hovering over him, a line of worry on his forehead as ruby eyes searched the young face. Long fingers grabbed the thin wrist and pulled his hand away from his throat, the bleeding marks slowly caking over before his eyes as the quicker healing of a vampire kicked in.

Harry whined again, and an arm was placed across his back, lifting him up into sitting position. The familiar vial was pressed against his lips and he drank greedily, emptying it in long gulps. It was quickly replaced by another which he swallowed down in a more controlled manner now that the worst of his thirst was gone, and Voldemort lay him back down against the pillows again.

The intensity of the thirst was shocking, and it surprised Harry that it had surfaced so quickly; he had taken the potion just last evening, so he'd only missed the one he should have taken this morning. The realization made him conscious of how utterly dependent he was of the Blood Replacement potion in order to be able to live a normal life, and that scared him. He felt like a drug-addict craving his crack, and that in turn made him dependent on his dealer, who in this case was Snape.

"Are you feeling better now?"

Harry blinked and turned to the Dark Lord sitting beside him on the bed, first now taking in the picture and remembering what had happened in the morning. His skin tinged with heat as the blush covered his face, and he pulled up the cover to hide his embarrassment. He had had an emotional breakdown in front of the Dark Lord – again! And then he had cried against his shoulder and fallen asleep in his arms!

"Harry?"

Thinking his face would burn up any moment, Harry decided it was better to answer Voldemort before the man decided to pull down the cover to see for himself how he felt.

"I'm fine." Just as he'd answered, a though hit him, and he asked before thinking. "Did you sit there… all the time?"

"Yes, I did. You apparently did not want me to leave," Voldemort answered in a matter-of-factly tone, and Harry felt the blush intensify.

Oh Lord, what had he done? But even though he was more embarrassed then he'd been in his whole life, he had to admit to himself that he liked the though of having someone watch over him, since it gave the illusion of care and concern.

"Thank you," Harry mumbled quietly from under the cover. "It was nice."

A moment of silence followed, as if he had shocked Voldemort with his admission, and Harry listened to the stillness of the room.

"Severus is making the Dreamless Sleep potion for you to take every night from here on, so you won't be troubled by the nightmares anymore," Voldemort explained quietly.

"Oh." The small sound escaped him before Harry could stop it, and he felt his face flame with embarrassment again. Now it sounded as if he _wanted_ to sleep with the Dark Lord!

Again silence filled the room and Harry wondered if his face would ever return to normal again, or if the blush would be permanent. But then it hit him what Voldemort had said about Snape making another potion for him, and he realized he would be even more dependent on the man, since he would need both the potions to be able to live normally and sleep properly.

The bed creaked a bit and the mattress moved as Voldemort rose, and Harry felt both relieved and disappointed that the man was no longer close.

"You should rest to regain strength, Minxy will come with food shortly," Voldemort said and Harry heard the sound of his feet retreating over the floor.

"Uhm…"

The sound of Voldemort's feet against the floorboards stopped. "Yes Harry?"

"Could I get some potions books to read?"

Harry lowered the cover a bit, just enough to be able to peek over the edge of it, and found Voldemort looking at him. Green met with ruby, and then Voldemort nodded and left, leaving Harry alone in the room.

XXX

The low sun of the late summer sent its last rays of light into the peaceful room, seemingly glowing around the head of black, messy hair that belonged to the teen sitting in the plush, green armchair by the window. A book rested in his lap, held open on a page filled with pictures and text to explain and describe, the letters as small as they could possible be without being unreadable. A low stack of three books lay on the floor by the armchair and a slightly higher stack rested on the tabletop of the small side table beside the armchair.

Harry's brows were furrowed in concentration as he tried to understand the increasingly complicated texts on potions. He had selected the parts in each book that interested him and had something to do with either the Blood Replacement potion or the Dreamless Sleep potion. He was also reading up on the basics of potions and researching a bit about the ingredients of the two potions, so that he knew what you had to be careful with and what could bring your death if you did something wrong.

He had already eaten and knew Snape would come by any moment with the two potions, but he still hadn't decided what to do. He had the chance to be somewhat independent again, at least as independent as he could ever get, but it would also force him to be in the company of a man who hated his guts and took every chance he had to point out all the faults Harry had – and this time it would surely be a lot of them. This was the reason to why he was now studying to make it easier on himself, so that he could learn more quickly and wouldn't have to spend as much time in the company of the bat.

Then the door opened and Snape came in, dressed in his usual black robes and the black cape swishing slightly behind him. Black, stripy hair framed the black, unreadable eyes that stared down the crooked nose to take in the picture of the many books and their titles.

"Have you gotten yourself an interest in potions now, Potter?" the professor snarled as he crossed the floor, hand going into his pocket to take out the potions.

Harry knew it might be a good idea to think this trough, knew he shouldn't be so hasty. But he was truly scared of being so dependant on something and someone, and wanted to be independent again as soon as possible. Taking a deep breath he closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again to look into those black depths.

"Please teach me how to make Blood Replacement and Dreamless Sleep, professor."

Green met black as they stared at each other, the silence stretching out as Harry waited for the answer, not sure whether he wanted a positive or a negative one. If he could learn to make the potions himself he would no longer be dependent on the potions professor, but if he studied potions with the man he would have to actually spend time with him, and that was something he had always avoided like the plague. If Voldemort hadn't had so much to do already, he would have asked the Dark Lord for assistance instead, and then he wouldn't be having this problem.

Just as he had decided to tell Snape to just forget about it, the bat-like man nodded shortly.

"I will speak with the Lord about the arrangements," he informed in his usual cold and uncaring voice before giving Harry the potions, one familiar and watery, the other clear and transparent, even more so then normal water. Harry took the familiar Blood Replacement before sniffing the Dreamless Sleep potion, and finding that it fitted the descriptions in the books, he downed that to.

"Potter!" Snape said with an exasperated sight and Harry was just about to ask what he had done wrong this time when he realized it might not have been the best idea to drink the potion right where he was sitting.

His sight was darkening in the edges, the world growing fuzzy and unfocussed before him. His body felt heavy and comfortably numb, warmth sleeping through it, and his thoughts slowed down as if caught in jelly until they came to a complete halt. All he was aware of was how nice it felt and that it would be pretty nice to close his eyes for a moment.

Before he had any chance to notice, he had slipped away.

XXX

Snape sighted again as he saw Potter's black mess of hair roll to the side as he fell asleep, the vial slipping out of his loose grip to hit the floor if the potions master hadn't caught it with a simple _accio_. He turned to leave but only made it halfway to the door before he stopped and turned back towards the sleeping boy in the armchair.

Potter wasn't the snotty, spoiled brat Snape had always though him to be. Instead he had been malnourished and beaten, abused by his own relatives, burdened by heavy expectations that no kid his age should have to be responsible for. He had been attacked and forcefully turned into a vampire, robbed of his chances for a normal life.

And still the kid was smiling.

He read books on vampires to get information about what he had been turned into and what rules his life would have to play by from here on, and he researched the potions he had to take to make life tolerable. He even asked if he could learn the potions himself, instead of just laying back and letting someone else do them, even though he hated potions.

Potter was slowly, perhaps unknowingly, accepting the unwilling changes in life and making the best of what he had. The realization struck Snape and disabled him from doing anything but stare, and the first thought to make itself known was unwanted and definitely not likable – and yet he realized it was more true then he would ever accept.

He would have to reassess Potter and make himself a whole new picture of the boy, learn to know him for what he really was, which he would have a chance to do when teaching him how to make potions.

Feeling an upcoming headache making itself known in his temples, Snape decided that his "reassessing" and "getting to know" the Potter brat had to be limited to levitating the teen to a more comfortable position in bed. He then pulled up the cover over the brat and glared at his peacefully sleeping face.

"If you're awake now, Potter, then I will make the rest of your life a living hell," Snape grumbled to deaf ears before leaving.

**Was the cuddling and all that to OOC, or does it fit in? =S**

**I have noticed that I get less and less reviews... D': Really, it's not like you have to write a novel or something, just a short "thanx, I like it" is enough to make me happy! :) Of course, I like the long ones too, especially when they're telling me how good I am! XD**

**So make me happy and review!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Thanks Anon, that's **_**exactly **_**the kind of review I want! XD *Happy dance***

…**and it seems like my little plead in the last chapter worked exceptionally good! ^^**

**Yesterday I saw HP7 part 1! YEY! XD  
- But I reallt had to congratulate myself with changing Voldie's appearance, because he's ugly as fuck in the movie! And the nose!**

The sun peaked up over the horizon a bit later and the temperature had dropped a few degrees, marking the nearing of the end of august, the late summer was soon going to have to pass the reign to autumn.

Even Harry found he liked the slight drop of temperature even though he was now sensitive against cold, as he was no longer weakened by his turning into a vampire. For the moment he was sitting on his bed, legs crossed as he was eating breakfast with Minxy fussing about all the books he had recklessly spread around.

He was just yawning, stretching with his arms reaching for the ceiling, when the door opened to reveal Voldemort followed by Snape. Minxy bent down in a deep bow when they entered while Harry gave them a sleepy "'morning" as greeting while scratching his neck. The two older wizards walked over to him, one with a potion in hand, the other holding his wand. Another might have been stressed about the situation, seeing as it could be interpreted as threatening, but for Harry it had become part of everyday life, and so he quietly took the potion and let Voldemort put the glamour over him, turning him blond and blue-eyed.

"Severus told me about your wish to learn potions, and I think it is an excellent idea," the Dark Lord said, his wand disappearing up the sleeve of his black robe. "So from now on you will study potions between breakfast and lunch, and after lunch you will train Dark Arts with me for a couple of hours."

The Dark Lord obviously didn't expect any answer, but Harry nodded anyway. The few times he had been training Dark Arts he had been expected to do it for the whole day, and even though it was interesting in the beginning, it easily got boring after a few hours. If they were only to train Dark Arts for two hours after lunch, then he would also have some time for himself, time when he could explore the mansion and its surrounding grounds.

"We will meet in the usual hall after lunch," Voldemort continued before leaving Snape and Harry alone as Minxy popped away with the dishes in the same moment. A heavy silence followed as the two wizards avoided looking at each other, unsure of how to behave now that they were supposed to be civil.

"What have you read so far?" Snape asked, and Harry sent him a thankful look for breaking the uncomfortable silence.

Snape sat down in the armchair and Harry perched on the bed, his legs crossed as he flipped through the books and pointed out the parts he'd read, sometimes explaining why he'd chosen that part or why he'd skipped another. The potions professor proved to be quite a good listener when he held back on the snide comments, only a few of them slipping out. They only had one fight during the whole time, which ended with Snape habitually crying out "50 points from Gryffindor!", which only had the result of Harry squirming on the bed as he laughed with the tears pouring down his cheeks while clutching his cramping stomach.

Giving up on making the teen stop laughing, Snape silenced him magically which only made Harry laugh even more if his writhing on the covers was anything to go by. When he had finally calmed down they went through the last books and Snape told him what he should read that he had missed or ignored, but the potions master also pressed out that he'd done a good job on reading up, shocking Harry so much he ended up staring at Snape open-mouthed and with the dull blue eyes wide. Then he mouthed a silent "thanks" as the _silencio _hadn't been lifted from him yet.

After that they got along quite well, none of them having to concentrate on not voicing any poisonous comments. Harry put on a robe and they went down to the bottom floor and crossed the entrance hall to walk through the same corridor one followed when going to the hall where Harry and Voldemort trained Dark Arts. They went in through another door and came into another white room, this one furnished with a long workbench sided with a few stools. Cauldrons in all sized made in every material stood on a solid shelf along one wall, ingredients and completed potions filling the cabinets that covered the other walls.

Snape wrote down the description on how to make the Dreamless Sleep potion which they would begin with since it was easier then the Blood Replacement potion, and Harry carefully read though them, noting they differed slightly from the descriptions in the books since the potions professor had made some changes that made the process easier or gave a better result.

Then Snape told Harry to go get the most befitting cauldron and told him why it was preferable, and after that they started brewing. Snape watched carefully as he chopped, crushed and squeezed the different ingredients, quietly commenting on how he should or should not do it. It ended up being a lot of "_Not_ like that!" and Snape obviously had hard time controlling himself while Harry could only glare as the potions professor still hadn't lifted the _silencio_.

Some of the ingredients he had made some horribly, Snape simply vanished them and made him do them again, some up to four times before the professor was content – or at least deemed them acceptable. After that the actual brewing came, but it proved to put a lot a strain on their truce since Harry hadn't been brewing for more than fifteen minutes before Snape deemed it not savable and vanished all of it, putting Harry back to fix the ingredients he had already put in.

When it was finally time for lunch, Snape had only let Harry finish his potion once, and then deemed it unusable. Harry was starting to despair – if Dreamless Sleep was the easier one of the two potions, then how would he ever be able to make the Blood Replacement potion?

Moody thoughts filled his mind all through lunch, making him unaware of what was put before him on the plate. The grumpiness followed him throughout the day, making Voldemort raise a brow to his ill-tempered manners more than once. It didn't help that the Dark Lord had to lift the _silencio_ that Snape conveniently had "forgotten" to heave, and then Harry had too be reminded of his failures again when Voldemort had asked him why he'd been under the spell.

Thankfully he could venture his anger and disappointment into the Dark Arts, resulting in dummies efficiently being smashed to bits and pieces until nothing but dust remained of them. When the two hours had passed, Harry was panting for breath after the exertion and he felt pretty good, the trashed pieces on the floor being evidence to where his anger had gone.

"Very good, Harry," Voldemort praised quietly, ruby eyes sweeping over the scrap littering the floor before he vanished it all with a swipe of his wand. "It would be a good idea to learn some self control, since it would be… unfortunate if your Dark Arts became dependent on your anger."

Harry sighted heavily and stroked his now blonde hair out of his face, slightly irritated that it always got in the way. How did girls handle it? "Sorry about that," he mumbled to the Dark Lord. "I just had a hard time with the potion today."

"Yes, Severus is quite the hard teacher and I have understood that you do not have the understanding that is required for the more complicated brews."

"Oh, so you've understood that, huh?" Harry answered sarcastically, kicking at the floor with his hands clenched into fists as the memories of all the passed classed in potions filled his mind. Really, why did he even try when he was clearly a failure?

A long fingered hand landed on his shoulder and turned him around so that the arm could enclose him in a one-armed hug with his forehead resting against the Dark Lord's robe-clad chest. The warmth of a human body radiated form under those robes, and Harry instinctively relaxed as that warmth reached his own cold body. The vampire in him told him to take as much of the warmth as he could, and he willingly obeyed as he leaned into the loose embrace, letting the Dark Lord hold him close. Long fingers threaded through his blond stands, gently massaging his scalp and making him hum in contentment.

"I am sure you will be able to brew the potions if only you try," Voldemort mumbled quietly, his soft voice barely loud enough for Harry to hear. Then he slowly released his grip and backed off a few steps, as if wanting to make sure Harry could stand on his own, before he turned with his robes billowing after him, soon gone out the door.

Harry stood quiet in the middle of the room, staring after the Dark Lord with conflict evident on his face. His body missed the warmth and comfort, he was disappointed at the sudden lack of closeness, while his mind provided the facts that it was the Dark Lord he had just been comforted by, the very man who had turned his life into a living hell. It was all… wrong. Just wrong.

Shaking his head he decided to clear his mind with a walk outside and finally, after close to two weeks without leaving the mansion, he could get out and explore the garden. Determined to put the conflicting thoughts at rest, Harry left the hall and walked through the corridor with the many windows overlooking the sunbathed garden. He walked through the entrance hall, the windows filling it with light, the merged glass panes creating squares of light on the white floor which polish gave a hazy picture of whoever walked over it.

It almost felt as if he was doing something forbidden when he stopped in front of the doors, the two pillars towering on each side of him and making him feel small and insignificant in comparison. As he put his hand to the sturdy wood of the doors he had too look over his shoulder to see if anyone was there to witness him, and then he pushed one of the doors open.

It opened surprisingly easily, swinging smoothly and silently on its hinges, and Harry slipped out through the opening as soon as he could, longing to be let outside after having stayed inside for so long.

Suddenly the sun of the retiring summer was pouring down over him, warming his skin, the round pane of light still high over the treetops of the woods, hanging there like a decoration of gold on the deep blue sky. The air was a comfortable temperature, warm but not enough to bother anyone, and the breeze was cooling.

The many overflowing flowers of white, pale lilac and pink all swayed languidly in the breeze, the sweet yet fresh scents mingling and heavy in the air. And in the middle of it all, standing proudly over the flours, stood the fountain with its three levels and the clear water falling over the white stone edges of the different levels.

A broad path of white slate in naturally formed panes went in a wide circle around the overflowing flowerbed with its fountain in the middle, the steps to the entrance doors breaking the circle at one side, a road leading over the grass expanse into the woods breaking the other side.

The white house with its two wings cupped the garden, seemingly holding it close as if keeping it safe from the rest of the world. Even though there were many gaping windows overlooking the garden, it gave a feeling of privacy and security, as if none of the troubles in the world could ever reach you when you were there.

Harry took a deep breath of the flower-scented air, closed his eyes and tilted his head back to let the sun meet his face. He felt calm, at peace, all thoughts of Voldemort fleeing his mind. Leaving the door to stand open, he thoughtlessly wandered down the steps, crossed the white slates and strolled among the flowers, slowly searching his way forward, careful not to step on any of the blossoms.

When he reached the fountain he sat down on its edge, the white stone cool through his robes. He leaned down, absentmindedly touching the rippling surface of clear water with his fingertips. Closing his eyes, he smiled.

XXX

"…still intent on making it all into a lie and turning it against Potter by saying he is only seeking attention. Of course, this aids us since it enables us to stay in the shadows and operate unseen, without the world noticing. If they knew we are back, they would become more suspicious and it would hinder our efforts."

Voldemort nodded, already well aware of all this, but he let Lucius keep him updated anyway so that he would immediately be alerted if his resurrection was somehow leaked out to the knowledge of society.

The two of them were walking through one of the corridors on the second floor; both in black, elegant robes; one with dark, slightly curly hair; the other with long, straight hair so pail it almost seemed white, a hint of sliver showing it the light. The wide corridor soon gave way to the stairs leading down to the entrance hall, and they crossed the mirroring floor to come up by the doors.

The Dark Lord stopped and frowned when he saw the opened door, and by his side Lucius drew his wand as if expecting there to be invaders. The silver-haired man moved to open the door further, but Voldemort had figured out who the so called "intruder" must be before it opened enough to reveal the garden with its fountain and the blonde boy sitting on its edge. A gentle smile rested over his lips and his eyes were closed in quiet enjoyment as he practically radiated a simple contentment.

The peaceful picture seemed to pull at something inside of him, as if the contentment was reaching out to him. He took a deep breath to gather himself, suddenly wanting to embrace the boy as he had just an hour ago, then stepped out into the sun while quietly denying the awakening feelings inside, as they were unwanted signs of weakness. A Dark Lord simple did not have any such feelings for another.

So why did he feel the urge to walk up to the boy and hold him?

"What are you doing here?" Voldemort asked. The sudden and unexpected sound obviously chocked Potter, who almost fell into the fountain when he startled. Dull blue eyes, wider then usually due to the chock, turned to them and blinked several times before the teen rose and made his way towards them, graciously avoiding the flowers.

"Good afternoon, sirs," he greeted them, the only give away being a quick flicker of his eyes towards Voldemort, showing he didn't know what to do. Before Lucius got a chance realize something was wrong, the Dark Lord swiftly took over the conversation.

"Lucius, this is a very important new follower of ours… Elijah Spring," he presented Potter, simply taking the first name that popped up without any real reason behind it. He turned to the teen and found blue eyes focussed on him, a look of deep disbelief in them as if he didn't understand how Voldemort could name him just like that. "Elijah," Voldemort continued, putting a slight emphasis on the name to drive his point through and stop the teen from protesting. "This is Lucius Malfoy, one of my most trusted members."

"A pleasure to meet you, sir." Potter swiftly played along, easily hiding behind the dullness in his blue eyes that was so hard to read, like trying to see through the murky water of a forest lake; you knew there was sure to be fishes, growth and a bottom somewhere in that water, but there was no chance of seeing even the things resting just under the surface.

Lucius looked down his nose at Potter's extended hand for a moment before he took it and gave it a quick shake before letting go again. "Yes, of course," was the only answer he gave, making Voldemort raise his brow slightly. He had said the boy was an important follower, and this was how Lucius treated him?

"As I said, Elijah is very important to us and will be of great aid in the future," Voldemort said, taking great pleasure in seeing Lucius tense slightly before he could mask it.

"He is very young, my Lord," Lucius answered slowly, seemingly choosing his words carefully. "About the same age as my own son, it would seem?"

"Yes, that is correct," Voldemort answered, unsure of what the man was aiming for.

"Will he be attending Hogwarts, my Lord?"

Dull blue eyes widened, conflicting feelings flittered over the young face before it all was hidden away in the murky water again, and the teen turned to Voldemort, obviously awaiting an answer just as much a the one who had asked the question. The Dark Lord met those blue eyes for a moment, as arguments went through his mind.

It would be good if Potter could continue his education as far as possible, maybe even to the point of finishing it, since it would give a better foundation for Voldemort to build on when developing the teen's magical capability and knowledge. But it would also mean letting Potter, the supposed saviour and his previously greatest enemy, out of his grasp. What if he lost control of the boy? What if Potter decided to go back to his old life, to trust Dumbledore after all? At the same time, it would not do to lock the boy up, since he could not take Potter's trust by force.

Maybe, it would be good to let the boy free, to let him develop on his own and explore the possibilities of a life without fame? It would also let the boy know that he was turning to the Dark side out of his own will, and that there was nothing forcing him. His chances of running away would be limited, too, since Snape would keep an eye on him. He could also get Malfoy Jr. to watch over Potter, and then Draco could keep Potter on the right track.

"Of course he will," Voldemort said, catching Potter's look of surprise before it was masked. "I expect your son to help him in every way he can, Lucius."

"Yes, my Lord. I am sure it will be an honour for him," Lucius answered with a bow.

"Good, then I expect you at the next briefing."

Lucius bowed again before saying his farewell, clearly dismissed. Then he followed the path around the garden and left along the road, his figure soon disappearing between the trees of the wood.

XXX

Happiness, fear, longing, the need to escape, familiarity, despise, friendship, blame, safety and uncertainty. Old feelings mixed with new ones, creating a maelstrom impossible to understand. And it all circled around one single word.

Hogwarts.

Voldemort said he would be going back to Hogwarts. Barely more than a month prior, and he would have rejoiced at this statement, at the chance to return to the only place where he felt at home, to his friends and to being what he had considered himself. As it was now, he didn't have anything to return to. No friends were waiting for him, the castle no longer held the feeling of safety that a home induced, and he realised now that he had never had the chance to really be himself, since there had always been the expectations weighting down on him, forcing him to act as the hero everyone thought he was. Therefore, he wasn't sure he even wanted to return.

And what if they found out who he was? What would they do then? His old friends, what if they somehow recognized him? Or if one of the teachers found out? Dumbledore would surely not be fooled, he would know as soon as he lay eyes on the glamour of Elijah Spring, those twinkling eyes would know who was hiding behind those dull eyes.

"They will know," Harry croaked out, his voice breaking due to the emotional distress. Long-fingered hands grabbed his shoulders as if to hold him steady, and he looked up to meet ruby eyes that calmly reassured him.

"You need to finish your education, Harry," Voldemort said, his voice gentle and smooth. "You will be under the glamour and live as Elijah Spring, a seemingly normal teenager who hides the fact that he is a vampire. You will only need to be yourself, behave as you wish, do as you wish. No one will expect anything of you."

Harry took a deep breath to calm himself, the thoughts whirling in his head. Could he really do that? Pretend to be someone else? But that wasn't really what he would be doing, was it? No, he would be himself, be the way he wanted to be, because no one would expect him to be a saviour. No one would expect him to be anyone but a normal teenager. He wouldn't have to pretend, wouldn't have to play any kind of role.

And if he returned, there would be some kind of structure to his life again. The past weeks he had lived life from day to day, without planning forward or looking towards tomorrow. If he returned to Hogwarts, then school would help him restore normality.

Taking another deep breath, Harry nodded, a nod so small it was barely visible. "I could do that," he whispered, and Voldemort smiled encouragingly.

"I think it would do you good," he said, lifting his hand from one of his shoulders but keeping the other in place. The Dark Lord moved around Harry until he stood by his side, and with his hand on one thin shoulder, he steered the teen up the stairs and inside the entrance hall.

Harry felt warmth grow inside at the simple words, and he realized that this must be how it felt when someone truly cared for you. A small smile played on his lips, even though he was aware that Voldemort surely didn't care – he was the Dark Lord, after all, and they had been enemies until just a couple of weeks ago.

"There is a lot to do if we are to get you accepted into Hogwarts," Voldemort informed as he led Harry through the mansion and into his own office.

The floor and walls were covered in dark wooden panels. Windows showing the garden and the entrance were opposite to the door, while the wall to the right was covered with bookshelves filled with heavy volumes, and the left wall housed a fireplace, a cup of floo powder at the mantelpiece. Two wingchairs clad in blue velvet stood before the fireplace, inviting whoever was cold to sit down and warm themselves by the flames that would dance on the now empty hearth. A massive desk dominated the room where it stood on a thick rug, a chair with blue velvet padding matching the wingchairs standing behind the desk, its back against the windows.

Voldemort lead Harry to sit in one of the wingchairs, in which he sank down with the thought that it was just as nice as the armchair in his own room. The Dark Lord himself sat down behind the desk and went to compose a letter to the headmaster, now and then pausing to ask Harry of his opinion on one matter or another.

By the time evening descended over the mansion, a darkly coloured, majestic eagle owl swept through the skies with powerful wing-beats. It held a letter in its strong beak, which it carried on its way towards Scotland.

**Okay, so that was it, and now Harry's glamour got a name. There is actually a bit of reasoning behind the name, even if it isn't much:  
I chose Elijah because they called him that in another fic, and I think it really fits Harry.  
Spring fits becuase 'Spring' in english is... well, spring, which means new life and rebirth and all that. In swedish, the word 'spring' means 'run', and that it pretty much what Harry's doing; running from his old life.  
So there you have it: Elijah Spring ^^**

**And Harry's gong back to Hogwarts! What do you think: yey or ney? O,o It doesn't really matter what you think, though, because he will be going back anyway. But I'm not sure if it will be in chapter 10 or 11...**

**Either way, for the few of you who have been good and read through my A/N: review, onigaishimasu! *bows***


	10. Chapter 10

**Okay, so I haven't read fanfics for a while, and I realized first now that I've totally forgotten about disclaim****ers... =S  
Well, since you all know I don't own Harry Potter, it shouldn't be a problem, right? ^.~ **

**Oh, and I know I'm a bit late again =,=' It's for the same reason, too - I was at a convention and then I've been totally dead, so I haven't written any... =S **

**Anyway, here it is! x)**

Life went by in the white mansion that radiated security and peace, yet held the greatest evil of the time inside its walls of stone. Every day followed a simple schedule for Harry; awake in the morning to Minxy's breakfast before Voldemort came to put the glamour on him. Shortly after, Snape came with the Blood Replacement potion for him, and then they went to the potions lab where they brew the two potions Harry needed until it was time of lunch.

When lunch had passed, he met with Voldemort who trained him in Dark Arts for about two hours. Between dinner and Dark Arts, Harry had free time when he often wandered the grounds around the mansion, simply enjoying a languid walk over the grass expanse, or sat by the fountain watching the rippling water.

He was always back in his room when Minxy came with his dinner, and then Snape came again, this time with both potions. After taking the Dreamless Sleep potion for the first time, he always saw to it so that he was in bed and was comfortable before he took it.

The brewing with Snape wasn't as bad after the first time, and he soon managed to complete the Dreamless Sleep potion "somewhat satisfactory", as Snape put it. From then on Harry made the potion himself, under Snape's supervision, and they went over to the brewing of the Blood Replacement potion. Just as Snape had said, it was harder, but after having worked so intensively with brewing, he could actually grasp the reasons to why he failed, and therefore learned from his mistakes.

With Voldemort he learned new Dark spells and hexes, not all of them meant for killing or destroying. They were also training nonverbal spells, since Voldemort saw it as a great weakness not to be able to use magic if he for some reason couldn't talk, and Harry found it was a challenge he enjoyed.

He knew his life was far from normal as he was Harry Potter, the supposed saviour and defeater of the Dark Lord, and he was living with said Dark Lord, even learning from him. Even so, his life felt somewhat normal, and he found he liked it. Yet, he slowly realized that he liked the thought of going back to Hogwarts. He missed the school life, the homework that one always cursed, the dorm where you learned to throw silencing charms because someone was snoring loudly, the classes you hated and sometimes slept through, the Great Hall where you glared across the tables at your enemy.

It would be good to come back.

A few days after they had sent the letter to Dumbledore, one of the school's owls arrived with one of the normal new-term letter along with a short note separately welcoming him to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and also informing him that he would be sorted along with the first year students.

XXX

As soon as the bricks had moved to the side, the busy life of Diagon Alley was revealed. The cobblestones of the winding street were barely visible under the many feet of wizards and witches who hurried back and forth, in and out of the crowded shops. There was chattering, laughing, screaming, crying and the hooting of an owl filling the warm air of the late summer afternoon.

Two unknown wizards made their way into the mess, trying to keep together as they were pushed and bumped back and forth by the many moving bodies. The longer one had dark brown hair and matching eyes, the gaze swiping over the surrounding crowd, now and then flickering back to the shorter figure trailing behind him to see that he hadn't lost his younger companion. To his surprise, the teen was clutching the back of his black robe, keeping close so that he wouldn't get lost. Dull, blue eyes shone weakly as they took in the sight of the many shoppers and the articles on display outside the shops or in the windows. The blonde, shoulder-length hair was tied up with a thin silk ribbon to keep it from falling into his face, the pale blue of the ribbon matching the dull eyes.

"Uncle Tom!" the blonde shouted, nodding towards Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour as none of his hands were free, one of them holding the robe of Uncle Tom, the other holding his new cauldron filled with books, potion supplies and all the other things they needed for the school start. The only thing left to fix was the school uniform, but Harry felt he needed to get out of the crowd for a moment.

They practically ploughed their way through the mass of people and broke into the ice cream parlour with its cheerful and bright colouring, the place filled with children begging their parents for some ice cream and clusters of teens sitting together, gossiping and laughing, talking about the coming school year. Lavendel Brown sat at one of the round tables together with the Patil twins and some other girl Harry knew he had seen before but didn't know the name of.

Harry stopped to look at them for a while, caught in memories until he realized they had noticed him. Lavender smiled and flicker her hair over her shoulder, fluttering with her eyelashes. Feeling his cheeks heat with embarrassment, he turned away and found Voldemort standing in line to buy ice cream. Smiling at the though of the Dark Lord buying ice cream, Harry walked over to him and joined his "uncle" in the queue.

"Which flavour are you gonna take?" Harry asked when he saw that Voldemort was focussing his full attention on the menu displaying all kinds of ice creams, sorbets, toppings, sprinkles and cornets. The now brown eyes, emptied of the blood that usually lingered there, were concentrated as is he was making a decision more important then life itself.

"I have yet to decide," he mumbled as answer, and Harry shrugged, deciding he wanted melon and chocolate.

"It has been a long time since I last ate ice cream," Voldemort admitted, and Harry nodded in understanding. He couldn't even picture the looks the death eaters would wear if their Dark Lord asked for ice cream. The following admittance did shock him, though. "I have forgotten what it tastes like."

Harry stared at him in shock, the dull blue eyes wider then ever before. "You don't know what you like? Seriously?"

The Dark Lord shook his head, and Harry just stared at him in disbelief for a moment before sighting. "Okay then, so… do you like sweet things or something more sourish?" Receiving a blank look as answer, Harry sighted again. When it was their turn to order, he decided on strawberry, lemon and vanilla for Voldemort, so that the man could taste sweet, sour and neutral. Hopefully, the man would like at least one of them.

They found an empty table and sat down, Harry purposely sitting with his back against the table of girls so that he wouldn't have to see their attempted flirting. Ignoring their chattering and the high-pitched giggles they produced, he turned his attention to his ice cream and to Voldemort who was currently trying the strawberry flavour. Harry ate his ice cream as he watched the Dark Lord's careful evaluation of the different tastes. When he had savoured all of them, he put the spoon down and looked up into the amusedly curious blue eyes that watched him.

"The pink one goes fine with the white, but I find the yellow one to be too sour for my liking," he said seriously, and Harry burst out laughing. Really, who would have thought the Dark Lord would have a sweet tooth?

They continued eating in silence, Voldemort still deeply concentrated on the ice cream while Harry watched him. After a while it started becoming boring and the blue eyes wandered, more dull now that he was bored. He found an abandoned copy of the Daily Prophet laying on the empty chair beside him, and picked it up to read a bit in order to reveal his boredom.

He skimmed the front-page without interest, catching the summary of an article about some witch from the ministry who had gone missing. Harry stared at the small picture of the woman who looked confused as if she'd just forgotten something, then turned dull eyes to look at Voldemort who was staring at his spoonful of lemon sorbet with a frown. Wondering if the death eaters and the ice cream analysing Dark Lord could be behind the disappearance but not really caring enough to ask, he returned to the news paper.

His eyes locked on another picture, and he stared at it in shock, blue eyes widening as he stared at himself, or rather, his real self. The picture of him was flattening his black fringe to cover the scar on his forehead, looking put out as if it annoyed him to have been caught on a photo. Under his photo there was a big 14 written, followed by a short text.

_14 days have passed since Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, disappeared from his home in Surrey. For further information, go to page 5. _

Harry almost ripped the paper in half in his haste to turn the pages, his heart drumming in his ears. What were they writing about him? What did they know? As soon as he'd found the article he began reading, squeezing the paper hard in his hands, crumbling it and making the small figures in the pictures flee.

_Two full weeks have now passed since Harry Potter disappeared from his home in Surrey, and still the circumstances surrounding his disappearance remain unknown. __The auror in charge of the case could not be reached for comments, undoubtedly trying to quiet the matter down, but our source within the ministry have told us that there are still no clues to the whereabouts of the Boy Who Lived. _

_Even so, the few facts known are enough to make the wizarding society fear for the life of the boy. __As earlier reported the ministry went to Potter's address after having been alarmed of the use of unauthorised magic, but they did not find the attention seeking teen they were expecting. Instead they were met with an empty house and the corpse of Potter's muggle uncle, undoubtedly killed by magic. _

_Potter's room has been said to be stained with Potter's own blood, proving that he have been taken by force, and we can only guess what have-_

Harry stopped reading, his temporarily blue eyes distant and unseeing as he stared at the paper before him. They knew he was missing… They were searching for him… But they didn't know anything of what had happened. They didn't know that he had nearly been beaten to death, causing the blood stains, they didn't know that he was the one who had killed Vernon and they didn't know that he had left willingly in order to not be found.

They thought someone had kidnapped him.

"Elijah?" Voldemort's voice came flouting form the other side of the crinkled paper, and without further notice Harry turned the paper to him, showing him the article.

"Why?" he whispered hoarsely, his eyes wild as he stared at the disguised Dark Lord, silently demanding an answer.

"Why what, Elijah?" he answered calmly, only glancing at the picture before taking the paper from him and neatly folding it so that the article could not be seen. Brown eyes met blue ones as the paper was put to the side, as if it was something to be forgotten.

"Why don't they know?"

"Not here, Elijah," was the only answer he got, and the Dark Lord rose from his seat.

"But-"

"No, Elijah. We will discuss this when we get home, but before that, we have to get your uniform at Madam Malkin's," Voldemort said sharply, clearly not going to accept any protests as he grabbed Harry's shoulder and lead him out of the ice cream parlour, the girls staring after them with surprise written over their faces.

Harry let Voldemort lead him over the street, too shaken to even think of resisting. Why didn't they know? How couldn't they know? It was so… so obvious! Did they really not know, or did they just want to keep it a secret from society, not wanting the world to know that their saviour had betrayed them? Was that it?

He was pulled out of his thoughts at the ping of the doorbell, and then calm closed around them when the door shut and closed out the many sounds from the street outside. The shop was just as Harry remembered it with the foldable screens, finished robes and other clothing on display and textiles everywhere.

"Good day," Madam Malkin greeted them in her motherly way. "How may I help you?"

"Elijah needs his Hogwarts uniform," Voldemort said, a small smile on his lips as he put a hand on Harry's shoulder in a fatherly way.

Madam Malkin immediately set to work, the measuring tape already whirling around him in its haste to take his measurements. He was soon ordered to take his robe off so that he stood in the shirt and pants he had under, and then she shooed him to stand on a stool where she started draping black fabric over him. Voldemort watched from the chair on which he sat as scissors flew through the air, freely cutting the fabric that was quickly stitched together again by needles holding threads, the magical work proceeding under the supervision of Madam Malkin, led by the small swishes of her wand.

Just as the cloth started taking the form of a robe, the door was busted open and the Weasly twins stormed in, identical down to every freckle, with red hair and lanky frames.

"Ronnykins!" they shouted as one, their blue eyes scanning the shop. Madam Malkin straightened and scowled at them, her hands at her hips, clearly ready to tell them off, but before she could voice her protests, the twins turned to each other, shaking their heads in unison.

"Doesn't seem like he's here, Fred."

"So it would seem, George."

Harry laughed lightly at their behaviour as he had always apprenticed their way of brightening the mood, and he remembered all the stupid and hilarious jokes they had made over the past four years, often making him laugh until he cried, his stomach cramping.

His laughter made the twins turn to him, identical smiles on their faces.

"Hello there. I don't think-"

"-we have met before."

"No, we haven't," Harry answered with a smile, hiding the pain it caused him to have to lie to them. But even though he missed them, their friendship and the time spent together, they could not find out who he was. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Voldemort watch him, well aware that the man knew exactly what he thought and felt.

"I'm Elijah Spring, and this is Uncle Tom," he introduced them, nodding towards Voldemort where he sat on a chair by the wall.

"Hello Elijah," they chorused, grabbing a hand each and shaking it before turning to the disguised Dark Lord and giving him a sloppy salute. "Good day, Uncle Tom!"

Harry snickered even as Madam Malkin turned back to the sewing, leaving the troublemaking twins be since her customers didn't seem to be bothered by them. Fred and George turned back to Harry, still smiling brightly.

"Are you going to Hogwarts?" they asked, guessing since they recognized the school uniform that took shape before them.

"Yes, I am."

"Then we will meet on the train!" one of them stated.

"But we must look for our brother now."

"You haven't seen him, have you?"

"Red hair, freckles, long and thin."

"Pretty much like us-"

"-but not as handsome, of course."

Harry laughed as he shook his head, and he savoured the moment with them as it was almost like it used to be, with the only difference that they though he was a stranger. The reminder made his smile fade, but the twins didn't notice as they were already on their way out of the door, cheerfully waving good-by

XXX

Even though it was still early evening, twilight reigned in the forest as the rays of sunlight had been closed out long ago by the thick trunks of the old trees and the lush crowns with the many leaves, causing the dim light that illuminated the forest. The wind played in the leaves and threaded its way between branches, filling the forest with a indistinct whisper, as if the very trees were trying to tell the stories of what they had experienced throughout their long lives.

The ground was covered in a thick carpet of green, soft moss that cushioned every step, and thick clusters of fern so high it retched past your knees. Small fields of blueberry sprigs spread out between the trees, promising a vast amount of berries in only a few weeks. Here and there, randomly spread over the ground by the ice sheet that had once covered the lands, were round boulders of gray stone. They broke the symmetry of the relatively flat land as if they were challenging the great height of the trees, but the green moss of the ground had crept up over them, sometimes covering them totally, as if trying to pull them down into the ground and make them part of the forest floor again.

Two pillars rose from the ground, built with bricks and formed as if they were supposed to be part of a brick wall, but the wall was nowhere to be seen. A beautiful gate in wrought iron, a masterpiece of art, hung between those pillars, closed as if they were blocking the way to the road that started just on the other side of it, the edges of the straight road no longer definite as nature slowly tried to claim it.

It looked as if all you had to do was walk around the gate and the pillars, and then you could follow the road and sate your curiosity by finding out what was lurking at the end of the road. Of course, you couldn't see the strong wards encircling the grounds, acting as the brick wall that had never existed.

A sharp _crack_ tore through the silence, scaring some birds to take flight. A boy and a man appeared outside the gates, the boy holding a kettle filled with supplies and the man bearing bags from different shops. Their free hands were joined together in a tight grip to enable the man to apparate both of them, but as soon as they'd landed the boy jerked his hand free and stood rigid on the dirt, glaring at the older man as his grip on the kettle hardened.

Voldemort sighted heavily, wishing the boy could have waited until they were back at the mansion and in his office. If he could have, he would have apparated directly to the front stairs like he had when they'd first found his little vampire, but since he didn't want Potter to be found in any way, he had changed the wards a bit and also widened the range of the nonapparition wards. As it was now, he would have to explain himself to the boy while standing here, in the open, where any death eater could show up practically at any moment.

Throwing up a silencing charm so that no one but Harry could hear him, he turned his attention to the still glaring boy.

"The wizarding society is unaware of what happened that night, Harry," Voldemort said with forced gentleness, using the boy's first name in order to sooth him. "There is, however, no reason to believe that Dumbledore wouldn't know, but he seems to be the only one except for the two of us and Severus."

"Then why haven't he spread it?" Harry asked, disbelief showing through the dull eyes.

Voldemort went silent for a moment, as he quietly debated what to say and what to censor, as well as trying to foresee how Harry would react. The truth would not be received well, that was for sure. The only question was how bad the teen would react, and if it would result in Harry turning away from Voldemort and the Dark.

"As he knows what you did, he will believe that you've turned from the Light and gone Dark, but he still needs you to be able to defeat me. Because of that he will use the information against you to make you follow his orders, to force you into obedience even though you no longer wish to follow him. He will blackmail you, Harry," Voldemort explained, all the while watching the boy closely to gauge his reaction to the news.

The teen's face was completely blank as if he had yet to progress the words or as if he had been shocked into unresponsiveness. The disbelief flittered over his features, quickly followed by anger, and he scowled furiously at the Dark Lord.

"I can't believe you, you fucking liar!" Harry bellowed, his face turning into an ugly mask of rage. "Dumbledore would never do something like that! He isn't like you, you manipulative bastard! Did you think I'd believe you? Did you think you would be able to manipulate me that easily?"

"Harry, think-," Voldemort attempted to reason with the boy, reaching out to grab his shoulder in order to calm him.

"NO!" Harry shouted and jerked back, away from the long-fingered hand. Voldemort felt an unexpected stab of pain at seeing his little vampire turn away, the bloodied eyes widening as Harry moved to run into the woods.

Without reflecting upon his actions he reached out again and wrapped his arms around the boy's waist, effectively trapping his arms by his sides. The boy flailed in his grip, trying to free himself in order to flee, but Voldemort simply rested his chin on the boy's shoulder. Even though it was forced, he enjoyed the closeness of the smaller body, and he knew that the boy instinctively enjoyed it as well. His little vampire was, after all, a vampire and was therefore somewhat dependent on human contact as his cool body missed the warmth of being human.

Placing his mouth just by the boy's ear so that his breath washed over his soft cheek, Voldemort quietly and calmly told him the truth the he knew the boy would have to accept even though he didn't wish to. After all, the seeds of doubt were already planted, and they had been growing in the back of Harry's mind for quite some time now.

"Do you really believe that man to be such a saint, Harry?" The body in his arms shivered and Voldemort hugged him closer against his chest, feeling his struggles weaken. "You know he isn't as good as he wants you all to think, don't you? If he was, then why would he leave you to those muggles?"

Harry shook his head in denial, blond stands escaping the ribbon band hanging down to cover his pained face, the blue eyes screwed shut as if he was trying to close out the truth. "He didn't know…" he whispered, but the protest was weak, clearly forced.

"Of course he knew, how could he not? He's kept an eye on you ever since you were put in that filthy muggle sty, and you know that, Harry. So why didn't he do anything?" The words were spoken softly, gently, as if he was trying to lessen the impact, but he was well aware that the force of the truth was only amplified when unforced. After all, he was only telling Harry what the boy already knew, and the trembling teen in his arms was well aware of that.

"He never wanted the best for you, Harry. He only wanted you to be dependent on him, so that he could manipulate you to believe anything he said, do anything he ordered. He only wanted you as a weapon against me, Harry."

Harry's legs gave in under him and Voldemort lowered the two of them down to the moss-covered ground, all the while holding Harry close. He gently stroked the teen's back as his little vampire cried, tears of betrayal and abandonment glistering on his cheeks.

Voldemort didn't reflect over why it pained him so to see his little vampire's tears, but he did not try to deny that he felt certain contentment. Finally, the boy had given up all illusions about that old fool and was ready to face the world and the darkness therein.

The bonds the teen had had to the Light had been severed.

**Okay, I have a question for you all: the red berries that usually come about the same time as blueberries, what are they called? When I checked it up I got the translation "Lingon Berries" but it seems too simple since they're called "lingon" in swedish O,o So, are they called lingonberries or something else? **

**Okay, so next chapter Harry will be going to Hogwarts! YEY! XD**


	11. Chapter 11

**Wow, this is the longest chapter so far! Woho~! XD**

**Ehrm, ok, so... **

Draco was walking through the corridor of the train, the new Prefect badge gleaming on the chest of his robes, his silver hair combed back and the usual sneer in place on his lips. He had just been released from the Prefect meeting and was assigned to patrolling the corridors to hinder any upcoming trouble, and even though it seemed like he was doing his obligation, he did not. Truthfully he was searching, his grey eyes exploring every compartment for someone described to be in his own age with blonde hair.

His father had told him that someone by the name Elijah Spring would come to Hogwarts, and Draco was to look after and help him since he was an important follower of the Dark with close ties to the Lord. There was nothing said about how someone so young could become so important or why he didn't come to Hogwarts until now. Basically, Draco didn't know anything about the other, except for the fact that they were on the same side in the upcoming war.

He wasn't sure if he was to be happy or mad about the unexpected assignment, but he did realize that it presented a great opportunity to prove himself to the Lord, especially if this Elijah Spring was as close to the Lord as his father had said.

A few first years who did not yet know who he was blocked his way where they stood in the corridor, chattering happily and venturing their excitement. Draco simply glared at them and straightened a bit to gain a few extra centimetres on the eleven-year-olds. He knew he could be intimidating when he wanted to, and their squeals as they scurried out of the way proved it.

Continuing down the corridor he passed through the doors and came into another carriage, his eyes swiping through the windows in the compartment doors. A few doors down he was met with the sight of a figure curled up on the seat, his back against the outer wall and his feet on the seat before him.

It was hard to say as he was curled up, but Draco would deem him to be a little under average height, making him a few centimetres shorter then Draco. Blonde hair was kept together and out of the innocent face with a silk ribbon that matched the dull blue eyes. He had his wand in hand, pointing it at one of their schoolbooks that lay unmoving on the opposite seat, the dull eyes fixed on it with concentration.

Standing unnoticed outside the door, Draco watched the other teen with slight uncertainty. If there weren't more then one blonde newcomer who would start fifth year, which was highly unlikely, then this was undoubtedly Elijah Spring. But he looked far too innocent and absentminded to be a follower of the Dark, and Draco could by no means figure out how he could possible be close to the Lord.

Deciding to find out more about the other for himself, Draco opened the door and stepped in, dull blue immediately rising to meet his own gray eyes. Surprise flittered through the blue puddles, and Elijah looked as if he didn't know how to react to Draco's presence. Then the uncertainty disappeared, and he smiled.

"Good day," he said, his voice soft.

"Good day," Draco returned the greeting and closed the door behind himself. "Is that seat vacant?" he asked, nodding lightly towards the seat opposite to Elijah, where the schoolbook lay.

"Yeah," Elijah said, summoning the book to himself with an _accio_. "Make yourself comfortable."

Deciding to start with some small talk instead of jumping directly for the subject at hand, which would be very unslytherin, Draco sat down on the seat and faced the blonde, meeting dull blue eyes as he tried to figure out what was so special with the other teen. "So you're new at Hogwarts?"

"I guess."

"How did you get the professors to let you begin in fifth year and not the first?"

"We told them that I have the same knowledge as a fifth-year student, and that I will catch up quickly if there is anything I don't know."

"We?"

"Yeah, me and Uncle Tom."

Elijah gave him an easy smile and the only thing hindering Draco from gaping was his Malfoy pride. Of course Draco had been told of the Lord's birth name, but he had also been strictly told never to use it – and there Elijah sat, a mere teen his own age, not only calling the Lord by his birth name but also calling him his uncle! Any doubt about the others relation to the Lord immediately perished, and Draco realized that he had been assigned to help someone who had to be his superior by far.

"He's not my real uncle, though, but you probably already knew that, right?" Elijah continued, oblivious to the thoughts passing through Draco's head. "Don't tell the Headmaster, though, 'cause we said that Tom is my uncle, and it would be bad if the old fool found realized that we're lying."

Draco nodded in understanding and was just about to assure Elijah that he would keep quiet when the compartment door opened.

XXX

Voldemort had placed a nontracing charm on Harry and then apparated the two of them to platform 9 ¾ disguised as Elijah Spring and Uncle Tom. They had been early to avoid the worst commotion and found that only a few families were standing by the red train. This had also made it easy for Harry to find an empty compartment where he had made himself comfortable after having said good-by to Voldemort, playing the part of the good nephew. It actually felt kind of strange to leave the man after two weeks in his care, but "Uncle Tom" had reminded him that Severus would be there to watch over him, and he would surely get along with the other students.

He'd watched the tumult as it built when more and more families arrived with their children, trunks and pets. The deafening sounds of chattering and screeching animals were nicely muted by the glass of the window, and Harry found he quite liked to be the innocent bystander who watched without getting involved. Yet another strange feeling, since he'd always been the one to be in the middle of whatever happened – he was always the one other bystanders was watching, but not anymore. Not now when he was Elijah Spring, unknown and anonymous.

When the train had taken off he had passed the time by watching the familiar landscapes change outside the window and trained nonverbal magic by trying to _accio_ one of their new schoolbooks. He had been utterly unsuccessful though, and had still to manage the spell nonverbally when the compartment door opened to reveal Malfoy with the prefect badge on his chest.

His first reaction had been to glare and give the Slytherin the usual "Piss off, Malfoy", but he managed to stop himself even before he'd formed the scowl as he realized that Draco Malfoy didn't have to be his enemy now that he was no longer Harry Potter. He was still surprised to see the blonde, though, and was well aware that it would be seen in his face. Uncertain of how to interact with and behave around the Malfoy heir, he quickly smiled and greeted the other teen.

For there on, the short conversation went quite smoothly, especially as Harry knew that Draco had to have been informed by his father and therefore knew about Harry's connection to Voldemort. It felt good to have someone his own age who knew and who he would be able to talk relatively openly with without having to worry about revealing anything – except from his true identity, of course – and he quickly decided to make Draco a friend now that he had the chance.

Their conversation was cut short however, as the compartment door was once again opened, this time to reveal a pair of identical ginger twins, both of them grinning happily as if they'd just pulled the prank of the year. Harry felt a genuine smile form on his lips at the sight of them and ignored the disapproving frown Draco sported.

"Hello there, Fred, George. Did you find your brother?" he asked, easily picking up a conversation.

"We did," they chorused happily. "So what are you doing with the ferret, Elijah?"

Harry smiled, remembering when Moody – or rather Barty Crouch Jr – had turned Draco into a white ferret. He was quick to answer, hoping to stop the venomous insult that was surely taking form on Draco's tongue.

"We just met," he explained with a smile, well aware that it wasn't really an explanation but more of a statement.

"Well, we're off to play some pranks on the first years!" George said.

"See you!" Fred added and they both waved before disappearing out the door.

"You've met before?" Draco asked with dislike as soon as the compartment door had closed, his typical sneer back in place.

"Yeah, we met at Madam Malkin's when I was getting my uniform," Harry answered lightly. "You really should give them a chance, they're fun," he added, giving Draco a slightly berating look.

"They're weasels, and weasels are poor, not to mention bloodtraitors," Draco scoffed but immediately quieted down when he saw Harry's slight frown.

"I really don't get why it's so important with pure blood," he huffed, shaking his head.

Before they could start any real discussion, the trolley rolled past and the two of them went to buy food and sweets – mostly sweets – for the remaining journey. They chattered about all and nothing as they ate, and Harry managed to lure Draco into a competition of who could eat most chocolate frogs, even though the Malfoy hair had stubbornly claimed that "Malfoys do not do such degrading things".

Harry was still chasing one of the frogs around the compartment while Draco clutched his stomach, laughing at the display when the door opened for the third time. Harry threw himself onto the floor before two pairs of feet, and he caught the escaping frog with a shout of triumph. Satisfied with his achievement, he propped the frog into his mouth and looked up from his position on the floor to see whoever was standing in the door.

Ron and Hermione looked down on his in surprise, both of them looking just like they had when Harry had last seen them, except for the fact that they looked tired and worried. Harry felt a sting of guilt when he realized they might be worried for him, as they had most likely been told that he had been kidnapped and therefore thought that he was being tortured by Voldemort at that very moment.

A gleam caught his attention and he saw the badges in the form of a P that adorned the front of their Hogwarts robes. Dull eyes widened at the sight, thoughts flittering uncontrolled through Harry's head. They'd been chosen as prefects? Well they sure lived the good life while he was fighting just to stay alive. And who was it that had actually saved the bloody school several times by now? What did he get in return? Yet another summer in the Hell Hole?

Deep down he knew he was being unfair, but right there and then, he didn't care – he was just angry at them. Luckily, Hermione started talking in her usual lecturing tone before he could utter his thoughts.

"Are you the new student, Elijah Spring?" she asked, just as well informed as always.

"Yeah, that would be me," Harry answered and got up from the floor, putting the chocolate frog leg that stuck out between his teeth into his mouth.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," she smiled, extending her hand to him. Not wanting to look suspicious he shook her hand and managed a smile, hoping his dull eyes would hide his feelings.

"Welcome my ass," Ron muttered darkly, glaring. "He's just as rotten as that slimy snake," he said and nodded towards Draco.

"Ronald!" Hermione berated him, clearly upset. She sighted exasperatedly, before turning back to Harry. "My name is Hermione Granger and this-," She sent Ron a warning glare. "-is Ron Weasly. We are the prefects of the Gryffindor house," she presented the two of them, and Harry nodded in answer, not sure of what he was supposed to say to that. "We were told by other students that there was some commotion in your compartment, so we went to check it out, but seeing as there is already a prefect here, I'm sure the problem will be solved," she said tartly, directing a taut and obviously forced smile in Draco's direction.

"As if the fucking snob would do anything," Ron scoffed and Hermione turned to him, obviously furious.

"Ronald Weasly!" she began, but was skilfully cut off by Draco.

"What a display," he said, shaking his head as if disappointed, his grey eyes glittering with malice. "Is this how students of the Gryffindor house behave and want to be seen by the new student?"

Harry felt torn, unsure of which side he should take. He himself had had the same view on Snytherins for the passed four years, and he had had the exact same opinion of Draco. Still, he had spent about an hour with the blonde now and realized that he was good company, even fun when you managed to get past that mask of indifference and scorn.

"I'm very sorry about this," Hermione apologized to him before he could decide, and then she turned to glare at Draco and Ron alike. "I hope you will have a nice year at Hogwarts," she finished before pushing Ron out of the compartment and slamming the door shut behind them.

XXX

The rest of the journey was quiet and peaceful, and before they knew it, the train came to a stop and students started welling out, excited to be back. The evening was cool and darkness had descended over the land, Hogwarts visible as a black silhouette against the darkening sky, its many towers and crenels reaching for the starts appearing high up there.

Harry unconsciously moved a bit closer to Draco, seeking his body warmth as the cool air was enough to give him goose bumps, even though he wasn't truly cold. He stayed by Draco's side as the Slytherin spied after his friends, the gray eyes sweeping over the crowd. Harry was also looking around, but he was searching for the giant form of Hagrid, hoping to see his friend in good health even though he couldn't greet him like he normally did.

"All first-years, come this way! All first-years, gather around me!"

Harry turned around with a frown as it wasn't the voice he had expected it to be, and was met with professor Grubbly-Planks coming towards them, the lanterns light bobbing as the lantern swung in her hand. The first-years gathered around her, looking around at their surroundings with wide eyes, and Harry fleetingly wondered if he had really been that small.

But where was Hagrid? He let his blue eyes wander over the crowd as if expecting the half giant to show up any minute, excusing himself by saying that he'd been caught up with some new "cute" and undoubtedly deadly creature that he'd found in the Forbidden Forest. Instead he caught sight of Hermione and Ron who stood together with Neville and Ginny, the four of them looking around the crowd just like he did. Apparently they were just as confused by Hagrid's absence as he was.

"Pansy! Blaise! Teo! Over here!" Draco suddenly shouted beside him, startling Harry out of his thoughts. As he looked up he noticed how close he actually stood to Draco and moved discreetly to the side before turning to the three Slytherins coming towards them. They all looked the same; Pansy Parkinson with her snobbish look and long hair; dark-skinned Blaise Zabini with short, black hair; and Theodore Nott with dark, slightly spiked hair. The only thing that had changed was that Pansy, just like Draco, had been chosen as a Slytherin prefect.

"Draco, where did you go, I barely saw you all-," Pansy began, but cut herself off as she laid eyes on Harry, her dark gaze swiping over him and taking in his appearance. Harry straightened a bit under the scrutiny and as her eyes made their way to his face, he met her gaze with confidence, complete stillness in his dull eyes.

"Oh my, Draco, who might this be?" she asked with the look of a predator spotting its play. The two boys behind her looked him over with curiosity, and Harry stood firm even though he wanted to squirm. Wasn't he supposed to be free of this when under the glamour of Elijah Spring?

"This is Elijah Spring, he is new at Hogwarts and will be starting in out year," Draco introduced him, and Harry simply gave a confirming nod, grateful to Draco as he was unsure of what to say.

"Shouldn't you go with the first-years then?" Pansy asked, flashing him a wide smile of white teeth. Harry was surprised to see that they were normal human teeth and not sharper.

"I have no idea," he admitted, shrugging. He really hadn't thought about it.

"Then please, come with us!" Pansy immediately insisted. "My name is Pansy Parkinsson, this is Theodore Nott and that is Blaise Zabini," she introduced them, grabbed his hand and shook it. Teo and Blaise simply nodded as greeting, which he returned in the same way, and then they made their way towards the carriages.

As they walked Draco leaned in slightly to whisper in Harry's ear. "She's got a thing for blondes, but don't worry, it will wear off."

"Good to know," Harry answered with a slight smile. "I feared for my life for a moment there – she looked as if she was about to put her teeth in me."

Draco laughed and nodded, and Pansy gave them an inquiring look over her shoulder, clearly wondering what they were saying. She looked as if she was about to join them when they reached the carriages that stood in line, students already filling them and the first carriages rolling towards school.

Harry stopped and stared as he, for the first time, saw the animals pulling the carriages. They resembled horses, though meagre as if there was only bone under their black skin, with enormous, bat-like wings. Their heads made him think of that of a dragon with white, empty eyes.

Thestrals. Harry had read about them in _Dark Creatures: Their Abilities, How to Recognize them and much more_, and therefore knew that he could see them because he had seen Cederic die at the graveyard. He walked up to the closest Thestral and reached up, letting it sniff his palm before he stroked its muzzle, blue eyes looking into seemingly blind ones. To him, it seemed quite befitting that he would be able to see the Testrals first now, as they somewhat fitted into his new life on the dark side – the Dark Lord, murder, betrayal, lies, vampires and Testrals all seemed to fit together in some kind of pattern, a pattern completely contradicting his earlier life.

"Elijah, what are you doing?"

Harry turned his head to Draco and the other Slytherins who all looked at him with quizzical looks in their faces, Blaise and Teo looking as if they had just deemed him crazy.

"Thestrals," he answered lightly and saw their eyes widen slightly in surprise.

"You can see Tehstrals," Draco said quietly, walking up to stand beside him. The statement clearly hid a question, asking who it was that Harry had seen die, but Harry simply played dumb and pretended not to have understood that.

Draco let it pass instead of asking any further questions, and reached up hesitantly in roughly the direction of the Thestral. Harry smiled, took Draco's pale aristocratic hand and guided it to rest on the black muzzle, and a smile spread over Draco's lips.

"You look like two crazies, you know that?" Teo said amusedly, and Harry couldn't stop himself as the comment triggered the child in him. Without warning he spun around towards them, his arms reached out and his fingers curled like claws. He put his head to the side with wide open eyes and open mouth, making gurgling noises as he slowly shuffled towards them.

Pansy squeaked and hid behind Blaise and Teo, the two boys laughing. Looking at Pansy's horrified look he doubled over and burst out laughing, surprised at how fun it could actually be to let his inner child free and just play around, something he had never been able to do since there was no place for immaturity when you was supposed to save the world.

Affronted and with her nose in the air, Pansy strode away from them and took place in a carriage with some other Slytherin girls, clearly ditching them. Still chuckling the four boys occupied the carriage pulled by the Testral Harry and Draco had petted, and they slowly rolled along the way towards Hogwarts, the castle towering higher and higher over them the closer they got.

Harry was nervous, worried that someone might recognize him even though it seemed unlikely since the people closest to him hadn't, but the risk was still there, even though Voldemort had said no one would be able to see through the glamour since it was so strong. He was also worried that he might say or do something that gave him away, but decided that that, too, was unlikely since he so far had done mostly what he wanted and even he himself realized that some of the things he did was far from anything the Gryffindor Golden-boy would ever think of doing – like playing with Slytherins.

But he also found that he was happy to be back, even though he had thought that his attachment to the place would be gone. School-life was as close to a normal life he had ever had, and the happy memories made the place a sanctuary of sorts. Especially now, when there would be no expectations burdening him, when he really would be able to live normally and behave the way he wanted.

The positive thoughts made a smile spread over his lips as he followed the Slytherin boys up the front stairs and thought the grand, heavy doors into the entrance hall. He was about to follow the others into the Great Hall when a familiar voice called out to him.

"Mr. Spring!"

Harry turned to see McGonagall standing by the stairs, just as strict as usual with her hair pulled back in a bun. Her lips were pursed and her gaze sharp as she looked him over, obviously evaluation him and making herself an impression of who he could be.

"Seems like I should have gone with the first-years after all," Harry said lightly as good-by to the others and made his way through the crowd towards the professor. Other students gave him curious looks, wondering who he was and what McGonagall could want with him even before the term had started, but Harry easily ignored them, used to the staring that always had followed the Boy-Who-Lived.

"Please follow me, Mr. Spring," McGonagall instructed and lead him into a smaller, adjuring room where they found all the first-years waiting nervously, the eleven-year-olds staring at him, wondering what one of the older students was doing there.

"Attention, everyone!" McGonagall said sharply, clapping her hands to emphasize her words. Complete silence filled the room as everyone turned to her, the small boys and girls shuffling as they nervously wondered how the sorting was done and what house they would be sorted into. Harry, of course, already knew how the sorting was done, and now that he thought about it he had a pretty good idea of which house the Sorting Hat would place him in.

McGonagall then proceeded to tell them to follow her in line, to then come forward when your name was called. It was really nostalgic as it was all the same as it had been when Harry had first come to Hogwarts, and he felt for the poor first-years as he saw them squirming. He remembered the nervousness he himself had felt and the story about trolls and tests that Ron had been told by the twins. It all seemed ridiculous now, but it had been very real and fully possible back then.

They were soon led out of the room, walking in a neat line with Harry at the end and McGonagall leading. The doors of the Great Hall opened up for them, and the first-years looked around with wide eyes and mouths open in awe and amazement while Harry smiled and took in the familiar scenery of the four tables with the many students seated, the hundreds of lit candles floating over their heads and the head table with the professors where Snape was glaring at the seated students before him without looking at Harry.

Dumbledore sat in the middle, his white hair and beard falling down in his lap and his robes purple with moons and stars in silver and gold. The forever twinkling eyes behind his half-moon glasses seemed to gaze over the new students that he showed a welcoming smile, but Harry noticed how they were locked on him and, summoning the bravery that had convinced the Sorting Hat to place him in Gryffindor all those years ago, he met the twinkling gaze and smiled, his dull, blue puddles giving away no emotion whatsoever.

Breaking eye contact, the headmaster turned to an unfamiliar woman who sat beside him, short and toad-like with a slack face, and Harry seriously expected a long, slimy tongue to shoot out of her wide mouth to catch a fly or something. Her clothes were an eyesore, pink and fluffy with a bow-tie perching on top of her hair. Harry knew one shouldn't judge people by their appearance, but he immediately knew he didn't like the woman and wondered absently how long it would be until he was given detention by her because he hadn't "shown enough respect" or because of some other bullshit reason.

As the sorting began, Harry noticed that the majority of the students had their attention focussed on him as they leaned close, whispered and threw glances thought to be discreet his way. He let dull eyes swipe over the many familiar faces, thinking that nothing had changed since they were still all staring – he was still different. Rethinking, he realized it wasn't true because there was one big difference changing everything. He might be different, he might be the focus of attention for the moment, but no one knew who he was, so no one expected anything of him. He had no roll to play, no frame to fit into.

A smile grew on his lips as he realized this, and he felt a lot of nervousness leave, like a burden being lifted off his shoulders. Finding the Gryffindor table he noticed his old friends gathered in a cluster, and when Ron turned to him he smiled. The ginger boy he still saw as a friend gave him a cold glare of disgust and hate before turning away, and Harry felt his smile fade as the pain put its sharp claws in his heart, leaving him bleeding.

Directing his gaze to one of the floating candles not far from his head, he waited for his turn to be sorted, and listened to the Hat as it shouted out the house the first-years would belong to. The sorting seemed to take forever and he had long lost attention when they finally reached S.

"Spring, Elijah!" McGonagall said sharply and he turned muddled eyes towards her before casually walking up to the Hat. Just half an hour ago he would have felt bad about what he was about to do as he would have worried about what his friends would think, but Ron's glare had already made clear to him that it didn't matter what he did anymore as he had already lost his friend simply by making a new one.

Sitting down on the stool, he put the Hat on his head and closed his eyes to be able to talk undisturbed to the old Sorting Hat, already knowing that everyone was watching with anticipation and therefore not having to confirm it by seeing it.

_Oh, Harry Potter, you have really pulled a big one this time_, the Hat said, actually sounding amused.

_You won't tell anyone? _Harry asked, hoping the Hat wouldn't tell Dumbledore.

_Of course not, it will actually be interesting to see what you will cause_, the Hat admitted, and now there was no hesitation; it was definitely amused. _Will you follow my advise this time? It is, after all, all the clearer now then it was when we first met. _

_I can imagine_, Harry answered dryly, thinking of the complete turn his life had taken. _And yes, I'll go by what you said when I was here the first time. _

Without further ado, the Hat shouted "SLYTHERIN!" over the Great Hall and the Slytherin table applauded enthusiastically while the others sighted in disappointment. Harry opened his eyes, took the Hat off and placed it back on the stool before making his way to the Slytherin table, flashing Ron a bright smile on the way as revenge.

Noticing that Draco was making a place for him between himself and Blaise, Harry walked up to them and sat down, letting his eyes wander over the staff table. Snape gave him a short, approval nod that went unnoticed by everyone else and Dumbledore watched him inquiringly over his glasses.

"Congrats, Elijah," Draco mumbled beside him, and he gave the blonde a genuine smile as answer before turning his attention to the few first-years who had yet to be sorted.

XXX

Draco watched Elijah out of the corner of his eye, seeing the dull eyes that hid so much flash over the head table to gauge the professors' reactions. He was a true mystery and puzzled Draco greatly.

Elijah Spring was, almost certainly, a highly ranked Death Eater with close relations to the Lord himself, yet he didn't act like it. He didn't seem to have the same views and values that followers of the Dark generally had, saying that he didn't understand the importance of pure blood. Elijah also, of what Draco had seen, seemed to be confident as if it didn't matter to him what others might think, and he could be childish and immature when playing around.

But he had also seen Elijah's gaze finding the Weasle, and seen the hurt look he had tried to hide when Weasly had answered his smile with a glare. It didn't at all fit with the other observations Draco had made about the new fellow Slytherin, and therefore confused Draco even more. Why would Elijah care about what the blood traitor though when he didn't care for the others?

Yes, Elijah Spring was a mystery but he intrigued Draco greatly, and while Umbridge was introduced as their now teacher in Defence Against Dark Arts, he swore to himself that he would solve the mystery and find out every secret about the new student.

The easiest way to do so would be to befriend him and keep him close, make him open up and trust him.

XXX

When the dinner was over Draco and Pansy had to lead the new students to their common room as they had their prefect assignments, and Harry caught sight of Ron and Hermione doing the same at the other side of the Great Hall. How come everyone in his surroundings seemed to have been chosen as prefects?

Harry followed them, walking beside Draco as he led the first-years out of the Great Hall, Pansy taking the end of the line to see that they didn't lose anyone on the way. Since Harry had been in the Slytherin part of the castle in his second year when they'd thought Draco was the hair of Slytherin, he vaguely remembered the way there, but even thought he might have been able to find his way, he still didn't know the password.

They made their way through the dank corridors of the dungeons and Harry noted to himself not to try to walk the way by himself in a few weeks since he would surely get lost in the labyrinth. Soon they found their way to the part of the wall where the hidden door was, and the first-years gathered around them.

"You all need the password to be able to get into the Slytherin rooms, but do not give it to any student from another house. We clear?" Draco asked, and all the little eleven-year-olds nodded, eager to somehow prove themselves. Turning back, Draco said the password with high and clear voice so that everyone would hear it.

"Parseltongue."

Harry snorted in surprise, unable to stop himself, and received a questioning look from Draco as the door opened before them. They walked into the Slytherin common room, laid out exactly as it had been in second year with the fireplace, the green lamps hanging from the ceiling and the plush, green armchairs with their side tables filling the room. The fire crackled homely on its hearth and a low mumble from the students who had already made their way there could be heard. They all went silent as they turned to look at the newcomers, but soon turned back to their conversations.

As soon as Draco and Pansy had helped the first-years finding their dorms, Harry and Draco went to the room they would share with Blaise, Teo, Crabbe and Goyle. It was rectangular with three beds against each long wall, their trunks placed by the foot of their respective beds. Two of the beds already had their curtains pulled shut, housing Crabbe and Goyle as Teo and Blaise sat in their beds on each side of the middle path between the beds. They stopped talking as Draco and Harry came in, and the four boys made themselves ready for bed.

After changing into a pair of gray sweat pants that he had brought from the mansion and letting his hair out, Harry crept up in his new bed and pulled the green and silver lined curtains shut before putting a silencing spell around his bed. He laid down with his head resting on the plush pillow, his blonde hair fanning out over the green, soft material, and nestled in under the cover.

So far everything seemed to go well as no one had recognized him, not even Hermione and Ron. It hurt a bit that his closest friends hadn't figured out who he was, but he supposed it told of how good the glamour was.

Too tired to try to handle any more complicated thoughts, Harry drank his two potions that he discreetly had taken from his trunk before rolling over to the side. He pulled the cover higher up, relishing in the warmth it provided, and was soon fast asleep.

**Harry's made it to Hogwarts, and his school life is about to start up! Just to bait you all a bit, there is some action ahead, but there are (probably) a few chapters until we get there^^ But rest assured - it's coming! XD**

**Okay, people, I've noticed that I'm getting less and less REVIWES O,o Really, the begging I did didn't last more then what, 2 chapters? **


	12. Chapter 12

**Merry Christmas! XD**

**Here's my Christmas present fo****r you all, it's not very long (the shortest chapter so far, I think =,=') but at least it's something! **

Harry woke early the next morning, used to getting up before Voldemort or Snape barged into his room to start the day. Therefore, the clock by his bed showed it was six in the morning, meaning it was an hour and a half before breakfast would start. Since he had a lot of free time Harry stayed in bed, stretching under the cover and nuzzling deeper down in the soft, green sheets. After slacking for a while, nearly melting and integrating with the bed, he yawned and got up, ruffling his hair. He was slightly surprised to find it long and straight instead of short and messy since he had never slept with the glamour before.

The silencing charms around the beds that the students, out of respect for each other, had thrown over their own beds made the room completely silent, and Harry smiled in delight over the calm moment. He made his way into the shower and simply stood under the warm spray of water, letting it scold his cool skin before he started washing his hair. It was ridiculous how long it took to wash all the hair he now had, and the quantity of shampoo it acquired was simply shocking.

When he had finally managed to wet, wash and dry all the blonde hair, it stood out in all directions, entangled in something akin to birds' nests, only the bird and the eggs were missing. He stared at his reflection in the steamy mirror, completely at a loss for what to do about the mess his hair had become since he'd never had this problem with his short, messy black hair that was impossible to comb even if you were to try.

He was in true despair about the situation when the bathroom door opened and revealed a sleepy Draco with slightly mussed hair and pyjamas in icy blue silk. The other teen stopped dead in his tracks, staring at Elijah who stood before him, only dressed in grey sweatpants with droplets still glistering on his bare skin and dampening his blond hair. Dull blue eyes met grey ones and they stared at each other for a moment, before Harry reached up and pulled at one of the worst parts of his hair.

"What do I do with this?"

Draco stared at his hair for a while, looking as if he had never seen anything worse in his life. Then he pattered over to him with bare feet moving over the tiled floor, and moved to stand behind him, moving his long, aristocratic fingers through the long, blonde tresses. Harry fidgeted a bit, nervous that he left his back free for attacks to his former enemy, but he quickly told himself that it was stupid – it actually seemed as if Draco would be his new friend here at Hogwarts.

"How did you manage this?" Draco asked, the disbelief clear in his voice. Harry just shrugged since he had no idea what he had done, and earned a doubting look. "What conditioner did you use?" the slightly longer teen prompted, and Harry gave him a blank look.

"Conditioner?"

Draco heaved an exasperated sight, obviously loosing all hope in him, and then pulled him along out of the bathroom and into their dorm, making him sit on the floor by Draco's bed that was beside his own. After a few moments Draco sat down on the edge of the bed, right behind him so that his legs were on either side of Harry. The warmth of a human seemed to embrace the young vampire who unconsciously leaned back a bit, relaxing and sighting in contentment as Draco started combing his fingers through the long, blonde hair, stopping to work on the birds' nests.

Harry hummed in delight as Draco started combing his hair, a smile creeping up to claim his lips as he sat on the floor between Draco's legs, leaning back against the bed with his eyes closed. He didn't notices as the others awoke and didn't see their wondering looks as he let himself doze off in the warmth of human closeness, realizing that the only reason why he hadn't missed it before was because he had had either Snape or Voldemort around him practically all the time.

It was a good thing that he had decided to make friends with someone who would be close to him the majority of the day, especially since Draco didn't seem to mind the closeness all that much. At least, he didn't protest openly.

XXX

While Harry was enjoying, Draco had a personal conflict big enough to give him a throbbing head ache.

The certainty he had felt about Elijah being a highly ranked Death Eater had been toppled completely when he'd found the other in the bathroom, his blonde hair somehow tangled into the worst mess Draco had ever seen. Seeing it as a chance to befriend the other and since he loved his own hair and didn't understand how people could mistreat and abuse their own, he had offered to help Elijah, his protests about being a Malfoy and a Slytherin stifled by the distressed and pleading look in Elijah's wide, blue eyes.

Then, when he was nursing the abused hair to look presentable, Elijah relaxed completely and even hummed a bit as he leaned back, not the least bit bothered by the fact that he had a stranger behind his back. It actually seemed as if he had fallen asleep, and Draco knew that no one as unsuspecting as that would ever be able to climb the ranks of Death Eaters, never mind being able to get close to the Lord!

Still, Lucius had said that Elijah was an important ally in the war and the close relationship to the Lord was proven when Elijah had talked so freely about him on the train.

That left only one possible explanation, that Elijah was indeed someone important who was close to the Lord, but he wasn't a normal Death Eater, and his value had to lie in something different that was hard to come by. Draco had no idea about what that could be, though he decided that he would find out, making it the first step to solving the mystery of Elijah Spring.

XXX

Once Draco had combed his hair to lie straight and shiny, all traces of the birds' nests erased, they dressed in their uniform robes and Harry tied his hair up with the usual ribbon, drinking his Blood Replacement potion when the others were occupied. As they were ready to face the day, Teo, Blaise, Draco and Harry left the dorm to go eat breakfast, leaving Crabbe and Goyle behind as they were a bit slow and hadn't dressed yet.

As they walked towards the Great Hall it was quickly revealed to Harry that Draco didn't stand as close to Crabbe and Goyle as he had always thought, and that the blonde was actually much closed to Pansy, Teo and Blaise, creating a group of four where Harry was now seen as the new, fifth, addition.

Trying to memorize the way, Harry paid attention to their surroundings as they walked, much as he had last evening, while letting the other three chatter. The dungeons really weren't as dank as he had always thought, the candle holders on the walls illumination the corridors with their soft shine. Portraits and paintings hung on the walls, the occupants greeting them as they passed, some of them addressing them by name or asking who Harry was.

Harry found it quite cosy, as if he already felt at home, and he had to admit that it was much better with a hidden passage in the wall to get into the Slytherin rooms then to have a portrait hole where its guard could decide to leave whenever she wished.

When they got to the Great Hall they found the tables sparsely taken as only a few students had managed to get there before them, and they took place by the practically empty Snytherin table. Taking their share of scones, tea, juices, scrambled eggs, toasts with different marmalades, bacon, sausages and fruit, Harry made himself comfortable and realized that there wasn't really any difference from sitting by the Gryffindor table, except for the fact that there were different people sitting there.

After a while Pansy joined them, taking place by Harry's side without asking for an invitation, and she quickly engaged Harry in simple conversation about his presumed first impression of Hogwarts. As she asked about everything from how he liked the food to the sleeping arrangements, he told her quite honestly that he liked it and found it comfortable, but didn't even try to appear as ecstatic about it as he had been when he came there for the first time as an eleven-year-old.

The Hall was slowly filling as students filed in, and Harry watched the tables fill up with chattering students talking about their summers and their expectations for the coming year, making new friends and meeting old ones. He caught sight of Hermione and Ron sitting with Ginny, the three of them sitting close and whispering as if they held the secrets of the world. The twins sat a bit away from them, also leaning into a whispered conversation but with matching mischievous smiles.

Harry wondered what they were up to, thinking that they might be planning some new prank, when Snape came marching along the table, handing out timetables to the seated students. His black cloak billowed behind him like usual, his stripy hair hanging limp around his face and the black eyes just as menacing as always. Harry smiled at him and received a nod of recognition in return as Snape handed out timetables to the others before turning to him.

"Come with me, Mr. Spring," he said sharply, and Harry blinked in surprise and looked questioning at the others before shrugging and rising to follow behind the professor as he handed out the rest of the timetables. They then walked through the Hall towards the doors leading out to the Entrance Hall, and Harry could hear a few of the students whisper as they speculated what he could have done to earn Snape's attention when the first class of the year had started.

Fred and George whistled from the Gryffindor table and waved, making Harry smile in return.

"If you keep this up-!"

"-you can soon rival Harry Potter!" they shouted, Fred picking up and finishing the sentence.

Harry felt his smile widen and gave them a mock bow at the "praise" before leaving the Hall behind Snape, highly amused by the fact that he was rivalling himself already when it was only the first day of school. It really did seem as if he couldn't keep away from attracting attention one way or another.

Snape led him through the Entrance Hall without a word and continued down into the dungeons until they reached the wooden door leading into Snape's rooms, which proved to be dark and murky even after Snape had lit the spread candles with a flick of his wand, as it the shadows in the corners somehow resisted the candlelight, clinging to existence even though they should be extinguished. The walls were mostly covered by shelves displaying the many glass containers filled with slimy and sometimes unidentifiable things that were kept from decaying by the green liquid they were floating around in. Harry scrunched his nose up in dislike for the fleeting… _things_ as he looked around, taking in the desk with a chair at each side, the bookcase, the fireplace with the small, smouldering fire and an armchair before it.

"Sit," Snape said, somehow managing to make it sound like something between an order and a request, and sat down in the chair behind the desk as Harry took place in the opposite chair, spreading his legs wide apart and leaning his cheek in his hand with his elbow resting on the desk so that he could sit comfortably. His fear and hatred for the man had disappeared during their many hours together at the mansion brewing potions, and even though he respected Snape for his wide knowledge, he wouldn't behave like some scared first-year afraid for a detention.

Snape took up a sheet of paper from the drawer and looked it over before looking up at Harry, black eyes locking with blue ones for a moment.

"How do you like Hogwarts so far, Mr. Spring?" the potions master asked.

"I like it," Harry answered truthfully before answering the question he knew Snape had really asked: if he had been recognized or had any other troubles as Elijah Spring. "It's… different, but not all bad. And there are no problems so far, so I think I can handle it."

"It's too soon to decide that," Snape said coldly before handing Harry the paper. "Here are the additional subjects you can choose between, but keep in mind that you have missed a year and therefore I would recommend that you only choose one subject instead of two."

Harry took the parchment and looked down on it, finding all the additional subjects enlisted on it along with the name of the professor teaching. Looking it over he realized it would be easiest if he just continued Care of Magical Creatures and Divination, but he knew right away that Divination was nothing for him and that he wouldn't continue taking the class if so his life depended on it. Not to mention that it might actually be dangerous to be close to professor Trelawney if her "inner eye" actually started working and she somehow found out who he was. No, never again would he set foot in that smoky, hot room again.

One of the reasons to why he had chosen Care for Magical Creatures was because Hagrid would be the teacher, but it seemed his old friend was no longer at Hogwarts and therefore obviously unable to teach the class. Besides, he had had Ron there as his friend to suffer through the badly organized and sometimes dangerous lessons, but now his former friend seemed to have turned hostile after Harry had made friends with Draco and been sorted into Slytherin. Not to mention the fact that it would be best to stay away from people who knew him well to avoid getting recognized in any way.

Scanning the list over again he wondered what might be interesting, quickly discarding Muggle Studies since he didn't see the point in studying the life of muggles when he'd lived with them since the age of one. Arithmancy was ruled out just as quickly, simply because it seemed so utterly boring he thought he would die half through the first lesson.

Ruling those four out, there was only one subject left: Ancient Runes. Remembering that he'd found an interesting-looking book back in the mansion that he couldn't read because it was written with runes, he decided it might be a good choice and at least interesting enough to be bearable.

"I'd apprentice an answer today, Spring. The first lesson starts in a couple of minutes," Snape snapped and Harry looked up from the list. Just for the hell of it he smiled at the cranky professor before handing back the parchment.

"I'd like to study Ancient Runes," he said lightly, putting his head to the side in an innocent yet teasing manner.

Snape's black eyes narrowed slightly as he stared at Harry for a moment, obviously not having expected the answer which didn't really surprise Harry since he would never have studied such a serious subject before… Well, before everything changed. All he ever did was trying to get away with the least effort possible, never really caring for school work. Now that he had dedicated roughly the last two weeks of his summer holiday to reading and studying potions, he found he actually liked learning and the proud feeling that always filled him and made him light when he finally understood something complicated.

"Good," Snape suddenly said, and Harry gave him a confused look. What did the man find good about it? He couldn't possible realize what Harry himself had just realized, could he?

Not caring for the confused look of his student, Snape waved his wand briefly over a second parchment before handing it to Harry, revealing his timetable. Harry just glanced at it to see what his first class was before he tucked it into his shoulder bag and turned his attention back to the professor, an urgent question probing his mind.

"What do I do when I need to brew?" he asked, not wanting to say to much if someone, somehow and for some unimaginable reason would be listening. But he had to ask since he would have to brew the Blood Replacement potion once or twice every week since it had to be fresh and had lousy durability, causing him to be unable to stock the potion for more than a few days.

Black eyes locked with blue ones, some of the dullness of the blue gone to hint at the sharpness that was concealed underneath, and then Snape swiftly stood and moved around the desk towards the door.

"As a student of the Slytherin house you have the right to come find me here whenever you need," he informed before opening the door. "You first lesson starts in a few minutes, I recommend you hurry."

Harry groaned as he remembered that the first class was History of Magic but quickly got up and exited the room, smiling quickly at Snape and thanking him for the help before he hurried through the corridors of Hogwarts, now emptied since almost all of the students already were in their classes. He skidded to a stop outside the classroom a few minutes late and silently snuck in, immediately drawing attention from all the students who tried to find anything to do instead of listening to the lecture of their dead professor.

Still unnoticed by the ghost he quietly closed the door and tiptoed to the empty seat beside Blaise in an overly dramatic manner, putting a finger over his lips as if hushing the staring students, asking them not to tell on him. By the time he reached the seat and sat, half of the class was trying to muffle their laughs. Professor Binns finally noticed and looked up when a Ravenclaw burst out laughing, unable to keep quiet.

Of course, Harry sat like the good student with his quill in hand and an attentive look on his face when the professor blinked out over the students, failing to realize that there was a new student there who he'd never seen before.

XXX

The next class after History of magic was a double lesson with potions which went by without problem, and Harry realized that he really had gotten better at brewing potions since he actually managed to make the potion assigned without too much trouble. After that came lunch followed by another double lesson, this time in Transfiguration with McGonagall. Harry was slightly nervous that his old head-of-house might recognize him, but could quickly calm down as the strict professor put him to test as soon as the other students had started working, and he used the next half an hour proving that he would be able to take her class without any extra work.

She seemed content and even praised him when they were done, and then he was allowed to sit with the other Slytherins and practice the spell they were supposed to learn. With that his first day at Hogwarts as Elijah Spring had passed, and they walked back to the Slytherin common room to practice the spell from Transfiguration since they had gotten in homework to learn it properly before the next lesson.

As it was still some time before dinner when they were done, Harry picked up some parchment and a quill to write a letter and tell "Uncle Tom" about his first day at Hogwarts like the good nephew he was supposed to be. He knew that Snape would probably report whatever happened to him, but it still felt good to tell the news himself and it helped keeping up the appearance that he was living with his much loved uncle.

He left to send the letter with one of the school owls after dinner, momentarily missing Hedwig before he decided that she probably had it good with the Weaslys. Draco decided to follow which probably was a good idea since he still didn't know if he would be able to find his way back to the Slytherin common room by himself. They walked through the mostly deserted corridors in silence, only passing a few other students on the way as they made their way to the Owl Tower. A few times Harry caught Draco looking at him with a look in his gray eyes resembling that of someone trying to find the missing pieces to a puzzle, but he decided not to comment on it and let it pass.

As they opened to door leading to the stairs the cool evening air of late summer washed over them, soothing to Draco but chilly enough to make Harry shiver. Feeling the goose bumps break out all over his skin, Harry slowly climbed the stairs with Draco just behind. He could feel the warmth of the other teen radiating against his own cold back and badly wanted to lean back against that warm body, letting the warmth encase him in a safe embrace.

Realizing it was Draco Malfoy he had behind him, he hurried his steps and sent the letter away as quickly as possible to get into the relative warmth of the school again, hoping that the armchairs before the fireplace in the common room would be vacant so that he could warm himself by the fire. On second thought, he wouldn't have so much against sitting on the floor as long as he could get close to the heat of the dancing flames.

His thoughts on the inviting fire, he didn't notice how he slowly walked closer and closer to Draco, like a moth to light, drawn to the warmth of the human body. Draco looked down on the slightly shorted boy walking by his side, so close their shoulders would bump a little now and then as they moved. He looked oddly cold, as if the lasting warmth of September didn't reach him.

He casually slung an arm around the other teen's shoulder, pulling the other's body slightly closer but still keeping it in a position that suggested they were friends fooling around. Dull blue eyes looked up at him, wide in surprise before he smiled gratefully, relaxing beside him in a manner that was far too trusting.

XXX

The fireplace was empty and dark, the room illuminated by the candles standing on the desk and the side table by the armchairs in front of the fireplace. Bookcases lined the walls, thick volumes filling the shelves. A man sat in one of the armchairs, a brown owl perching on the back of the armchair, hooting lowly. The fickle light of the candle played over the man's well sculptured features, enlightening the ruby hue of his eyes.

A letter rested in his hands, short and sloppily scribbled down on a piece of parchment, yet meaningful in its own way since it showed the sender trusted the receiver and wanted to keep him updated instead of trying to shield himself from him.

_2 September_

_Dear Uncle,_

_my first day of school have passed and I like it here, even thought it's not as comfortable as the mansion it's still homely. _

_The Sorting Hat placed me in the Slytherin House, and I'm getting along with my house mates, especially with Draco Malfoy. _

_As my additional subject I have chosen Ancient Runes since none of the others appealed to me. _

_Say hey to Minxy from me_

_/Elijah _

_P.S. Could you send me a brush? I can't always borrow Darco's. _

A slight smile touched upon lips that were seldom seen smiling as the manicured fingers neatly folded the letter again. Rising from the armchair he walked over to the desk where he sat down, reaching for some parchment and a quill with ink to compose a reply from the good natured "uncle".

**Since I got all my presents yerterday evening (that's how we do it in Sweden) I'm off to play with my new things ;P **

**Drop me a present by reviewing, ok? XD**


	13. Chapter 13

**I just have to say**** that I get just as shocked every time someone review and say they love my story, or say it's really good or something like that. Why? Because people only say that to people who have written really good stories, who are really good writers. And me? Well, I'm just a normal girl sitting in my bedroom at home, dressed in pyjamas and listening to music on YT while putting some idea I once got down on paper. Really, I'm not that good a writer, I'm just normal like any other. And that's what I find so shocking and equally delightful – the fact that someone perfectly normal like me or any of you can actually do something like this, and people can think it's really good. We normal people can do great thing, we don't need to be special. Really, I just needed to filter that out, all your reviews have really touched me. Thanks, everybody, and remember that you don't have to be special. You just have to try. **

**Ok, so now I've been emotional, thanks for bearing with me ^^ **

_2 September_

_Elijah, _

_it warms my heart to know that you have found Hogwarts to your liking and it gladdens me to know that you already have found reliable friends. I would also like to express my delight over the matter that the Sorting Hat found you worthy of being a student under the proud name of Slytherin. I am sure you will be able to make many trustworthy acquaintances among your house mates. _

_Regarding your additional subject I think you have made a wise decision by choosing Ancient Runes since many of the most reliable sources we have today origin__ate from scripts written with the runes. Therefore knowing runes is likely to come in handy when you continue your studies, so I hope you will take your studies seriously and handle them responsibly. Thought I do wonder how you will catch up on the subjects since the course started already last year, which leaves you a full year behind the other students. _

_I hope you will bring up this matter with the professor already on the first lesson, so that you can recover the missed material as soon as possible. I would also like you to ask what books you will need and send me a booklist as soon as you know, so that I can supply them for you. _

_Moving along to the request you made in your letter, I have enclosed a brush for you, and I sincerely hope you thanked Malfoy Jr. for his kindness. But please, do not make it a habit of yours to depend on people, since it is no good to be dependent on the people around you – it will only serve to make you indebted. If there is anything you need in the future, do not hesitate to ask me and I will immediately see to your needs. _

_With hopes to hear from you again_

_Tom _

Harry sat by the Slytherin table in the Great Hall, the unopened package holding the brush laying on the table just beside his bowl of yoghurt and cereals. The same school owl he had sent off with his letter had returned with the answer from "uncle Tom" along with the usual morning mail, before taking off again with a bit of Pansy's toast in its beak.

"From your uncle?" Draco asked from the other side of the table as Harry looked up from the letter.

Harry just nodded and folded the letter before putting it in his bag, thinking over what it said. If there was any truth at all behind the inky letters on the parchment, it was obvious that Voldemort did care about his education and it was somewhat warming to know that he had the other's support in his choice of Ancient Runes. It was also painfully obvious that the man was a Slytherin and that he didn't trust people, which slightly unsettled Harry.

Didn't Voldemort want him to trust anyone? Reading the last paragraph it sure seemed so, yet the man had said it "gladdened" him to know that Harry had already made friends. And if he was so distrustful, did it mean he didn't trust Harry?

Shaking his head, Harry picked up his shoulder bag and left the Great Hall with the others, making their way to the first class for the day which was Charms. The lesson went much like Transfiguration had the day before, as the little professor Flitwick asked him to perform a wide range of charms that they had been taught over the years. Just as in Transfiguration, Harry handled the test without problems and was allowed to go sit with Draco and the others to train on the task assigned for the lesson.

The day passed quickly and before he knew it, lunch had been eaten and they were sitting in the classroom, waiting for their last class of the day, Defence Against Dark Arts, to start. Umbridge already sat behind the desk, dressed in the same horrible pink and fluffy clothes with a wide smile in her pudgy face, making her resemble a toad even more then before. She watched in silence as the students filed in, and the students seated answered by watching her just as quietly, trying to make out what kind of teacher she was.

"Good day!" she greeted them merrily as soon as they were all seated, and was answered with a lame "good day" from a few of the students.

"Oh, no no no! We can't have _that_, now can we?" Umbridge said disapprovingly. "I would like you all to answer with 'Good day, professor Umbridge', so let's try again, shall we?" She clapped her hands together and smiled at them. "Good day, my dear students!"

"Good day, professor Umbridge," they dutifully answered, and Harry glanced at Teo who he was currently sitting beside, both of them looking slightly doubtful as a silent message travelled between them. Who was this woman, who behaved and talked as if they were either retarded or small children?

"Well done, everybody! That wasn't so hard, now, was it?" Umbridge said, sounding as if she was proud over their great achievement, like she'd just heard a toddler say his first word. "Please put your wands to the side and pick up your quills," she instructed, and Harry groaned inwardly.

She quickly proceeded to tell them how inadequate their education in the subject had so far been and that the ever-changing teachers they'd had hadn't followed the education plan from the ministry. The course objectives were quickly spelled on the board, none of it mentioning the practical training of Defence Against Dark Arts.

"Now, does everyone have their copy of _Defensive Magical Theory _by Wilbert Slinkhard?" Umbridge asked when they'd scribbled down the text on the board, and she was answered with a low mumble of affirmatives.

"Seems like we will have to try again," Umbridge said, sighting as if disappointed in them. "When I ask a question I want you to answer either 'yes, professor Umbridge' or 'no, professor Umbridge'. Well then, let's try again: does everyone have their copy of _Defensive Magical Theory _by Wilbert Slinkhard?"

"Yes, professor Umbridge," the class answered and Umbridge smiled.

"Good, then I want you begin at page five and read the first chapter: 'Basics for Beginners'. No speaking."

Harry began reading, just like the others, but soon found that the book was practically useless since he already knew the facts in it, and the rest was filled with the opinions of the author who seemed to be a pacifist since he obviously was against all kinds of violence, including every spell that could possibly be used to cause harm. He began skimming through the pages before jumping between the chapters, seeing that it was all the same useless shit throughout the book.

Glancing around the room he found that the other students were loosing their focus, so he wasn't the only one who thought the book was useless, not to mention boring. He returned his attention to the book and stared at the page unseeing, letting his mind wander for the rest of the lesson in an attempt to pass time while doing nothing.

To occupy himself he went over everything Umbridge had so far said, including her speech from the dinner in the beginning of the term. Since he had done so much reading and studying during his time at the mansion, he had gotten pretty used to read between the lines and think critically while reading, an ability he now applied to what the toad had said.

By the time the bell rung to mark the end of the class, Harry was suspecting that Umbridge was sent by the Ministry, a suspicion he mainly biased on the fact that she seemed fixed on the idea that everything had to be done in a way that the Ministry approved of. If that was true then the Ministry didn't want the students at Hogwarts to learn proper Defense Against Dark Arts, but he had no idea why.

XXX

Harry looked out thought the windows as he walked alone down the corridors, watching the dark clouds hiding the blue sky as they empted their contents over the world, the drizzle wetting the windows and making the picture of the school grounds wavy and blurry. Only the gray light from the outside illuminated the corridor, making it appear colder and less friendly then it actually was, and Harry fleetingly wished Draco would be there to provide some human warmth.

It was the third day of school, namely Wednesday, and he was on his way to his first lesson of Ancient Runes, hoping to catch the teacher early to get a chance to talk about how he would read up the material from last year. Luckily, the professor was already in the classroom when he peaked through the door, a middle-aged woman with dark, slightly curly hair and a motherly smile. She reminded him of Molly Weasly, thought slightly longer and not as… big, thought she was still a far bit from skinny, with brown robes draped around her.

"Professor Babbling?" Harry asked, making his presence known, and the professor whirled around to face him, and a wide smile spread over her face when she saw him.

"You must be the new student, Elijah Spring? How nice of you to look in a bit early!" she said happily and strode over to him, taking one of his hands in her bigger hands and squeezing lightly.

"Ehm, yes, I would like to speak about what I should do about my studies," Harry mumbled, trailing off. There was something about the woman that made him relax, but at the same time he got the impression she wouldn't hesitate to chop your head off if you didn't behave in her class.

"Yes, yes of course," she said, nodding as she led him towards the bench closest to the teacher's desk. She gestured to him to sit down before taking place behind the desk. "Do you have any prior knowledge of runes or are you a complete beginner?"

"Beginner," he answered, and she nodded.

"Yes, I talked to your Head of House, professor Snape, and he believed so too, which is why I have prepared some materials for you." She smiled and bent down, opening a drawer before straightening again, this time with a bunch of papers and an old, tattered book that she handed to him. "This is the past year's book along with some exercises that will help you read up on the basics such as grammatical rules and how to write runes."

Harry nodded as he flipped through the papers, looking at the different exercises. Just as she had said, most of it consisted of grammar and how to write runes, and while he didn't understand anything he didn't think it looked too hard.

"Ah, Ms. Granger! What great timing you have!" professor Babbling exclaimed, and Harry looked up with dread to find his old friend standing in the doorway, her brown hair just as bushy as usual and books that didn't fit in her shoulder bag clutched to her chest.

Harry had completely forgotten that Hermione studied Ancient Runes, which immediately turned the class to a danger zone. Shit, he should have chosen Care of Magical Creatures, both Ron and Hagrid could be really dense, there was no chance they would recognize him, but Hermione would surely find out immediately. Shit, shit, shit, what was he going to do? Should he try to change class, surely Snape would understand and let him do it, but wouldn't that look suspicious?

"Hello professor Babbling, Mr. Spring," Hermione greeted them, and Harry nodded in answer, not trusting his voice enough to actually talk to her.

"Come over here, Granger. I was just talking with Mr. Spring about his studies since he is a beginner in the subject, and therefore he will have to read up last year's material on his free time. I was wondering if you could help him with that, being the top of the class and all?"

Professor Babbling smiled widely at Hermione, while Harry stared at the professor as if she had grown a second head. Was she insane? If he was forced to study together with Hermione, then that meant spending extra time with her! No way he would be able to hinder her from recognizing him then! But Hermione studied really many subjects, didn't she? She really didn't have the time to help him, too. _Please, Hermione, say no, just say no_!

"I will do my best, professor."

Harry badly wanted to bang his head against the table and would have done so if it wouldn't have looked suspicious, so he had to make do with an inward groan. He was doomed, so utterly doomed.

"Lovely!" professor Babbling exclaimed happily, oblivious to the fact that she had just sealed Harry's ill fate. "I'm sure it will make it much easier for you, don't you think so, Mr. Spring?"

Harry managed a smile that he was sure no one could think was genuine, but the professor didn't say anything about it and Hermione didn't show any outward reaction.

"All I had planned for this lesson was some repetition to fresh up your memory, but since I doubt you need it, Ms. Granger, why don't you and Mr. Spring sit down and begin?"

While they'd been talking the other students were starting to file in, most of them Ravenclaws, and they all looked surprised to see Harry there. He barely noticed thought, as Hermione sat down beside him and fished up her timetable from her bag to compare with his to see when they could meet.

"As far as I can see, it would be a good idea to meet in the Great Hall during lunch Monday and Thursday, between 12 and 1 since we have lunch at the same time there, and since you have double lunch both times it will give you well enough time to both eat and study," Hermione mumbled.

"But then you won't have the time to eat," Harry protested. He knew his own timetable was pretty slack since he only had one additional subject, but Hermione took a lot more subjects then he did and couldn't possible have the same amount of free time.

"Oh, don't worry, it won't be a problem," she said and gave him a quick smile before turning back to their timetables. "It would be good if we could meet at least one time more every week… How about Tuesdays after 3 in the library? Of course we could meet more than that if needed, but I think three hours a week should be enough to begin with."

Harry just nodded, unable to find any way to stop this without being suspicious, and wrote down the times he had with Hermione in the margin of the timetable before putting it down in the bag again.

"I see professor Babbling have given you an exemplar of last year's book, that's good, but you will need the book for this year and a lexicon, do you think you can somehow get that?"

"Yeah, just write it down and my uncle will send them," Harry answered and Hermione wrote down the names of the books on a bit of parchment before handing it to him.

"You live with your uncle?" she asked as he took the parchment and put it in his pocket.

"Yes, my Uncle Tom," Harry answered with a slight smile.

"Your parents?" Hermione asked quietly, but he simply shook his head. "Oh, I'm sorry," she apologized and looked genuinely concerned for him.

"Don't worry about it; it was a long time ago."

After that they began with the runes, as Hermione started teaching him how to write the many different symbols, how to pronounce them and their meanings. Some runes had their own meanings while others were sound based, and yet others could be both depending on which context they were used in.

In the end, Hermione gave him homework to learn the ten first runes till tomorrow when they had their first scheduled meeting, and Harry ended up training on them during the following lesson in History of Magic. He also wrote a short letter to "Uncle Tom", sending his thanks for the brush and telling what books he would need for his Ancient Runes studies.

As soon as class was over, Harry and Draco went to the Owl Tower, making their way through the crowded corridors when they almost literary bumped into Ron, Hermione, Dean and Seamus who were all making their way towards the Gryffindor Tower.

"Hello Spring!" Hermione said happily, making the boys in her company stop dead in their tracks when they realized who she was talking to.

"Hey Granger!" Harry answered, not yet used to calling her by her surname, but "Elijah" and Hermione didn't know each other well enough to be on first name basis yet, since they'd only met two times so far.

"Hermione, why are you talking to that slimy Slytherin?" Ron demanded, stepping up to stand beside Hermione as if protecting her.

"Don't be so full of yourself, Weasel," Draco drawled in answer, his nose held high. "You really think Elijah wants to talk to the mudblood?"

Hermione looked hurt but seemed to try to hide it, as it wanting to stay strong, while Ron looked furious and ready to attack and Dean and Seamus seemed ready to grab their friend any moment to stop his from starting the fistfight that seemed unavoidable.

"Shut up, will you?"

They all turned to Elijah, staring at him in shock as if it was the first time they actually saw him, all of them disbelieving since he, a Slytherin who was friends with Draco Malfoy, had defended Hermione. His dull blue eyes had a dangerous glint to them, like the shadow of the monster under the blank surface of a still lake.

"If you pulled your head out of your pureblooded ass for just a moment, you would realize that her blood doesn't affect her value as a human, and I know that you are aware of the fact that she is actually better than you in many ways, so you _do not call her_ a mudblood."

Gray eyes, widened in shock, stared into blue, suddenly sharp ones, for the first time seeing proof to the theory that there was something beneath the surface and realizing that it might not be so unbelievable that the other teen was a highly ranked Death Eater. He swallowed and nodded, deciding to never use the insult again since he valued his life, and quickly turned to the female Gryffindor.

"Accept my apology, Granger," he said, his voice a bit raspy and not as steady as he would have liked it to be. He was also aware that it sounded more like a demand then an apology, but it was the best he could produce.

Hermione blinked in surprise over the sudden turn of the situation, and flushed slightly. "It's okay," she mumbled and shared a grateful smile between the two Slytherins.

Harry smiled in return, feeling slightly giddy from the light feeling it produced to have defended his old friend. Even thought he lived with and was on good terms with the Dark Lord, even thought he had been sorted into Slytherin and had made friends with Draco Malfoy, he still couldn't accept that some people were treated badly because their blood wasn't "pure".

"I'll see you tomorrow, then?" Hermione said, still smiling happily.

"Yeah, see ya'!" Harry said and waived slightly as he moved to walk past the group of Gryffindors, the blue eyes having regained their dull dumbness and an innocent smile on his lips.

A hand landed on his shoulder, squeezing hard in a way meant to hurt and forcing Harry to stop.

"Don't think this makes me like you, Spring," Ron spat in his ear.

"Whatever makes you think I would lick up to you, _Ronald_?" Harry answered, his voice low but threatening, and before Ron would come up with an answer he let his wand fall into his hand and flicked it discreetly. Ron swore and pulled back his hand, a nasty burn marking his skin as if it had been burning, and Harry flashed him a bright smile before walking on with Draco by his side.

XXX

The flames of the fire cast its warm, fickle light over the armchairs crowding in front of the fireplace, making deep, dark shadows dance over the fabric and the occupants of the armchairs. Elijah sat in one of those armchairs, the light of the fire dancing in his dull eyes that yet again hid the sharpness underneath. He was reading the book he had gotten to study Ancient Runes, a frown creasing his brows as he made notes with a focused look, all of his concentration directed to trying to understand and learn the contents of the book resting in his lap.

He looked comfortable, relaxed, at home, and it was first after the incident with what remained of the Golden Trio that Draco realized how truly at home Elijah was in the snake's nest. The sharpness and the threatening but tightly leashed danger was completely erased from his blue and seemingly innocent eyes, but Draco knew that it had been there, proving that Elijah Spring was far more than the innocent and good-natured teen he appeared to be.

Yet he could not see why Elijah would make alliances with the Dark Lord and all that he stood for, since he was obviously opposed to the idea of pureblood superiority. There had to be something else, something that made Elijah turn to the Lord and made the Lord see him as valuable even thought they did not share their priorities and views. But what could possibly accomplish that?

He was pulled from his thoughts as Elijah stretched and yawned, rubbing his face with his palms before he started gathering his things. Rising, he ran his fingers through his hair as if wanting to keep it in place, a gesture much more frequent for people with short hair since it tended to fall into their face, which Elijah's hair couldn't possibly do due to the ribbon keeping it in place. Tired eyes swept over the armchair and the floor around it, searching for anything he might have forgotten, before he turned to Draco.

"You gonna stay up?" he asked, a yawn threatening to break through the sentence.

"No, I was just thinking of going to bed myself," Draco swiftly replied and followed Elijah into their dorm.

As they went through the routines of making themselves ready for bed, Draco couldn't stop throwing discreet glances to his side, and he found himself watching as Elijah undressed until only his boxers remained, stretched to pop the vertebras in his back and then put on his gray sweatpants. He let his blonde hair out to cascade down over his shoulders and quickly brushed through it to avoid the worst tresses that otherwise promised to appear by the morning. The lithe body moved, barely visible muscles flexing under the slightly tanned skin.

Ripping his eyes from the picture with an effort, Draco quickly said goodnight and closed the curtains around his bed to close out the much too enticing and mysterious existence of Elijah Spring.

**Okay, so I pretty much copied Umbridge's first class, thought without Harry's first detention... (thought it won't be exactly the same if you look it up with the book, since I had to translate it from swedish ^^)**

**HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYBODY! XD  
I hope you made your New Year's Resolution to always review from here on! ^,~**


	14. Chapter 14

**Hello people! Fyi, I'm despairing right now. Want to know why? Because my Christmas holiday is coming to its end, my last day of freedom being tomorrow and on Monday school is starting...*sigh* This is why I have nothing fun or enlightening to say right now, and it is also why I will probably start uploading every other week again, instead of every week, just so you know. =,='**

The following day Harry walked into the Great Hall after the hour of free time that he had between the double class of Herbology and lunch, and he found himself greatly relieved that he had that hour since the things they'd been working with during their two hours in the greenhouse had the tendency of spurting brown, stinking goo whenever you happened to squeeze them too hard. His friends had been forced to make do with a quick cleaning charm before they went to their next class, while he had had the privilege to be able to walk to the Slytherin rooms and take a long, hot shower. He had then passed the rest of the time with homework that needed to be done before he had ventured down to the Great Hall where he was to meet Hermione by 12 for their study time.

As the lessons had yet to end in a couple of minutes, the Hall was nearly empty as Harry made his way through it to take a seat at the Slytherin table where he spooned himself a bowl of vegetable soup and made a complementary sandwich with sausage. Hoards of students were soon welling into the Hall, taking place by their tables and filling the air between the thick stone walls with mindless chatter. Harry was soon joined by Draco, Blaise, Teo and Pansy who all took place to sit around him, and he teasingly sniffed the air before scrunching his nose and turning away slightly as if they were still stinking in spite of the cleaning charm.

"Don't even try, Elijah," Draco said with a slight glare. "I _do not_ smell."

Elijah grinned impishly at him and, unable to stop himself, he leaned in and planted his nose in the crook between Draco's neck and shoulder while sniffing loudly, much like a dog would. He felt Draco stiffen and briefly wondered why, but before he could try to find an answer to the question, Pansy broke through his musings.

"Why is the mudblood walking over here?" she asked with obvious dislike, and Harry turned around to look at Hermione walking towards them with her chin raised high in a determined look.

Harry hadn't thought about it, but it was obvious that they would have to share table and sit together while studying over lunchtime and therefore either one of them would have to sit at the other's table. It seemed Hermione had taken it upon herself to make the sacrifice, but Harry immediately knew it wouldn't work – the Slytherins were far to fixed with pureblood superiority and disdain for muggleborns, not to mention their overall hostility towards Gryffindors who they obviously looked down on.

Deciding to prevent the catastrophe just waiting to break out, Harry quickly threw his bag over one shoulder and took his soup bowl and sandwich in his hands before rising, smiling widely at Hermione who hesitantly slowed her pace, relief flickering thought her brown eyes.

"Where are you going?" Pansy asked, a slight whine to her tone as if she was disappointed that he was leaving. She still seemed to be interested in him and repeatedly approached to talk to him and try to stay in his immediate surroundings at all times, but Harry had yet to acknowledge her and she hadn't done anything to change that – at least not yet.

"I'm gonna study like a good boy," Harry answered lightly and flashed her a smile. "And Pansy? Don't ever call Granger a mudblood again. Ask Draco if you wonder why." He steadily held her gaze as he said it, his smile unwavering, yet she paled slightly and tensed as if bracing herself against an attack.

"I'll see you guys again after lunch!" Harry said as his goodbye before he made his way over toe Hermione who was waiting patiently for him, just a few metres from the end of the Slytherin table but still drawing many scornful glances from the occupants. He surprised them all when he walked up to her, smiling friendly and greeting her, showing the public that he didn't care for blood purity or which house one might belong to.

"Thank you," Hermione breathed silently as they walked through the Hall on their way towards the Gryffindor table. "I really don't know how they would have reacted if I tried to sit with them."

"Badly," Harry informed her dryly, causing her to sight heavily.

"I can't understand why there has to be such hostility between our two houses," she mumbled and glanced at him, apparently wondering why he, just like her, didn't share the opinion of the majority.

"Probably because people think Slytherins and Gryffindors are too different from each other," he guessed before smiling at her again. "They'd just know how small the difference really is."

She opened her mouth, probably meaning to ask him what he meant by that, when their conversation was disrupted by a shout.

"Hey Elijah! Already rebelling?"

Harry smiled at the twins and made his way over to them with Hermione following, drawing the questioning and shocked stares of the Gryffindors as he made place for himself and Hermione to sit so that they were facing the Weasly twins.

"This place would be so boring if nobody went against the customs and did something unexpected," he answered while grinning as he put down his lunch and started packing his school materials.

"He is actually here because he needs help with reading up on Ancient Runes," Hermione said and gave Harry a berating look, reminding him of what they were actually supposed to be doing. He grinned sheepishly and took a bit of his sandwich, and Hermione began the "lesson" by looking over what he had so far done.

Harry had expected it to be excruciatingly boring but found it quite enjoyable to sit with Hermione and discuss the meaning of the different runes or banter over how they were supposed to be drawn while they were eating, since it made the situation relaxed and not so serious. The twins helped by making jokes about what different runes looked like and by pulling pranks that made the whole table laugh. When they heard that Harry's next class was two hours Defence Against Dark Arts they were quick to spell his hair a sweet pink colour that matched Umbridge's clothes, saying they were making him a favour and that the hair colour would surely result in better grades.

The new hair colour did make every student he passed in the corridors turn their heads to stare while Blaise and Teo wouldn't stop laughing and Draco looked like he wanted to be somewhere else. Even Umbridge was rendered speechless for a moment before she told the class to open their books and read the next two chapters in the dead boring book. Harry glanced at the pink toad to see that she would stay in her seat to survey the class before he picked up parchment and a quill with ink, pretending that he was about to take notes on the text. Raising the book to stand so that he could hide behind it, he started training on writing the runes he remembered.

After and hour, he was bored. After and hour and 15 minutes, he thought his brain would wither to a useless clump of mush. When an hour and a half had passed, he decided he couldn't spend the rest of the year reading the book or he would go mad. When the lesson was finally over, he knew what he would do in order to find a solution to escape the boredom that Defence Against Dark Arts, his former favourite subject, had become.

As they went down to dinner that evening he stopped to search the Gryffindor table to see if Hermione was there and quickly said goodbye to the others before making his way over to the bushy-haired girl, ignoring the fact that Ron sat with her along with Ginny and Neville.

"Hello," he said lightly, pointedly not looking at Ron as if he didn't notice that the redhead glared daggers at him. Thankfully he had tact enough to shut up.

"Um, hello," Hermione answered with a confused smile, a questioning look in her brown eyes as he looked directly at her, making obvious to everyone that he came there to see her and not the others.

"Was there anything we went over that you didn't understand?" she asked, not seeing any reason for him to come to her but for the sake of their studies.

"No, but…" he trailed of, searching her eyes and biting his lower lip as he wondered if he really did the right thing. After all, he should keep his distance since he didn't want her to find out who he really was, and now he was the one who came to her. But Hermione always knew everything and was the one he had relied on for the past four years to solve his problems, so why not ask for her help now?

"What do you think of the new Defence professor?"

Hermione blinked in surprise, obviously not having expected the question, but she didn't have the time to answer before Ginny leaned over, a dark look in her brown eyes.

"She's horrible! I can't believe Dumbledore gave her the job," she hissed angrily, keeping her voice low.

"You shouldn't say such things about your professors, Ginny," Hermione scolded half-heartedly, obviously just saying it out of habit.

"I agree with Ginny," Harry said silently with a seriousness he knew was uncharacteristic for the usually cheery Elijah. "Why would the Headmaster hire her?"

"I don't think he had a choice," Hermione said while sighting. "She's sent by the Ministry, possible to spy on the school and the students."

Harry nodded and said: "Yeah, I thought so too, but I don't get why."

"After the revelation that You-Know-Who is back Fudge is nervous that Dumbledore will use the crisis to take the post as the Minister since many wanted him to take over after the first war. To prevent that, they ridicule every rumour that says You-Know-Who would be back and they also ridiculed Harry and Dumbledore to make them less trustworthy so that no one would believe them. To keep track of Dumbledore and Harry they sent Umbridge to Hogwarts and made her teach completely worthless classes, in order to reduce the power of us students if Dumbledore were to use us against the Ministry," Hermione explained, her voice quiet and her eyes swiping the surrounding to see if anyone was listening in on them. Harry could also hear that her voice wavered a bit as she mentioned him, and he realized she was truly worried for him.

"Fudge really thinks Dumbledore would do that?" he asked with disbelief. Hermione just nodded with a grim expression and Ginny looked angry but not surprised, as if Hermione had told her this before.

"But if they disable all the students at Hogwarts from fighting, then they are reducing their own chances to defend themselves against Voldemort," Harry pointed out, disbelieving that they could be so utterly stupid. He also realized that this would have upset him more before, when he himself was fighting against Voldemort and everything the man stood for. Instead, he found himself torn between wondering how innocent people would be able to defend themselves and thinking it was good that the Ministry indirectly helped Voldemort.

Unsure of his own standing in the matter, he realized he was no longer against Voldemort, but at the same time he didn't support the Dark as he was against most of their believes. If it came down to it and he has to chose a side in the war, which one would he take?

He was torn from his conflicting thoughts when he saw that both Hermione and Ginny stared at him, and through the corner of his eye he saw that even Ron looked at him a bit differently.

"What?"

"You believe Harry? You think You-Know-Who is back?" Ginny asked breathlessly.

"Why wouldn't I?" Harry asked in return, almost snorting when asked is he believed in himself.

"Nobody else seems to…" Hermione mumbled, seemingly relieved that he believed in the same thing they did and so making him an ally of sorts.

"Well, I know he's back," Harry answered with a shrug. "The question now is what we should do with Umbridge and the Ministry?"

"We could always talk to Dumbledore…?"

"No," Harry said tiredly, shaking his head. Why did the solution always have to be the old fool? But really, he couldn't bale them – he'd been the same for so many years. "You said it yourself; the Headmaster can't do anything about it, so talking to him wouldn't change anything."

Hermione sighted, resigned and disappointed, and glanced up to the Head Table. Harry fallowed her gaze and met the twinkling eyes of the Headmaster, a knowing look in his eyes that unsettled Harry and made him turn away.

"Tell me if you come up with anything, okay?" he said to Hermione and received a nod in answer before he rose and went over to the Slytherin table, receiving weird looks even from his house mates because of his behaviour and his friendship with a mudblooded Gryffindor.

Wherever there were expectations, he failed at fitting in since he simply couldn't behave like the norm. Sighting at the revelation he shrugged, deciding to give up on trying to fit in – at least if everybody knew that he didn't do what people normally did, they wouldn't expect him to, and so, there would be no expectations at all! The thought made him smile as he took place between Draco and Blaise and started scooping up food on his plate.

"Talking runes with Granger again?" Draco asked disinterested, clearly just making small talk.

"Not this time," Harry answered merrily, earning a raised brow in question from his blonde friend. "We were discussing how to get rid of the toad," he explained flippantly, not the least bit disturbed by the severity of the subject or over the consequences it could get if they were overheard.

"I'm on," Blaise declared, drawing Draco's shocked look. "What? Her classes are boring enough to make professor Binns seem exiting."

XXX

Draco stared at Elijah, his gray eyes wide in surprise at the statement the seemingly dull teen had done. _"We were discussing how to get rid of the toad."_ How could he talk about such things so openly with such a carefree attitude? It wasn't the fact that he was planning to do something about their worthless bore of a professor, quite the contrary, since he, too, thought something should be done. What disturbed him was the forward attitude and the fact that Elijah didn't in any way try to conceal it or do it in secret the way a Slytherin would. How could he be so open with it when whoever of them could go to Umbridge and tell on him any given moment?

"I'm on," Blaise declared, drawing Draco's shocked look. Blaise was an old friend of his and a Slytherin to the very bone, especially with that mother of his, so Draco would really expect him to want to go about it in a more Slytherin way then to start some open revolution like those simpleminded Gryffindors.

"What? Her classes are boring enough to make professor Binns seem exiting," Balise defended himself when he caught Draco's look, making the Malfoy heir shake his head.

"Shouldn't you be a bit more quiet about it?" Draco hissed, including both Elijah and Blaise in his scolding look.

Elijah shrugged while loading food onto his plate, just as undisturbed as before, but Blaise at least had the decency to look a little regretful, as if realizing his mistake. Draco turned his eyes to Elijah again, watching the other eat for a moment before he turned to his own food, but his thoughts stayed with the living mystery sitting just in front of him. He was close enough to touch, yet if felt like he was incomplete, fragile fragments held together by sheer will as to many pieces were missing for the form to hold together by itself. Of course such thoughts were ridiculous, Elijah was just as much a living being as himself, made of flesh and bones like any other, but Draco just couldn't seem to figure him out.

He didn't fit into the house he was sorted into as he seemed like a true Slytherin one moment only to be a Gryffindor the next.

He didn't seem to fit as a Death Eater following the Lord since he obviously didn't have the same values and even seemed to oppose the values of the Dark, yet it was unquestionable that he was in fact a highly ranked Death Eater.

He seemed innocently oblivious to the dark of the world that surrounded him, always so dull and untroubled, only to turn into a danger with a sharp edge that was otherwise gone without a trace.

Who and what was he? Draco shook his head, a small, barely visible little shake. Elijah seemed to be one thing, but what he _seemed_ to be didn't seem to fit together with what he really was. So what was the truth; the dull and innocent exterior or the sharp and dangerous interior?

"I'm off to talk a bit with Snape," Elijah said casually as he got up and left with a wave over his shoulder, and Draco frowned. What could Elijah have to talk to Snape about?

Then a thought suddenly hit him, making his eyes go wide again as his head snapped around to the doors through which Elijah's back just disappeared. How did he know how to find his way to Snape's rooms? Sure, he had been there before when talking to Snape about his additional subject, but that was only once, and it had taken the dull-eyed teen several days just to learn his way to the Sytherin common room.

When the next realization hit him, the only thing hindering him from gaping was his Malfoy pride; _he's __**always**__ been able to find his way, from the very beginning. His only problem was finding his way to the common rooms. _Memories of walking to class together or walking to the Owl Tower, Elijah going alone to the toilet or his class in Ancient Runes, and not once had Elijah asked where they were going or how he would find his way there.

Memories of when Elijah had first come to Hogwarts flooded him: Elijah following them to the carriages without question; Elijah gazing out over the gathered students when he came into the Great Hall for the first time, unimpressed or even surprised over the awe-inspiring Hall, Elijah not looking the least bit nervous when he was to be sorted and seemingly unsurprised when being sorted into Slytherin, Elijah easily passing the tests given by the teachers in different classes, Elijah having no problem learning the names of people…

_He already knew all that_, Draco thought, and in the next moment the conclusion came.

_He must have been here before. _

XXX

Harry was walking through the corridors of the dungeons alone on his way to Snape's rooms, his school bag slung over one shoulder, happy that he had managed to learn his way over the past few days so that he wouldn't have to worry about getting lost. He had realised that his supply of Blood Replacement potion was running out when he took his dose for the morning, and therefore was on his way to brew more of it.

He stopped outside of Snape's door and politely knocked, waiting for the muffled "come in" before he opened and ventured into the now familiar rooms, closing the door behind himself. As he turned to the bat-like man, the potions master raised a black brow in question and Harry smiled, well aware that the dullness of Elijah Spring concealed what lay underneath completely when he did.

"You said I could come whenever I needed, professor?" he asked and received a nod in reply. "Where can I brew?"

"The fireplace should be sufficient," the potions master replied and Harry thanked him with a nod before walking over to the empty hearth, easily lighting a fire with a flick of his wand before he started unpacking the cauldron and the ingredients from his school bag, the cauldron soon restored to its normal size with a tap from the wand.

He was soon going through the familiar motions and steps of making the potion, so used to the process that he could prepare the ingredients during the brewing without problem. He heard Snape scribbling in the background, the soothing sounds of the quill scratching against parchment, the crackling fire and the rhythmical chopping of Harry cutting ingredients filled the room, relaxing the two wizards and removing any tension that could have been caused by the situation.

"So, what's happening outside of school?" Harry asked, not really wondering but wanting to make some small talk, and realizing that Snape was probably the right man to ask since he was close to both Voldemort and Dumbledore, and therefore he should know more about what was happening then those who only partook in the information of one side.

The scrape of the quill stopped but Snape didn't answer, so Harry turned to look at the man over his shoulder, finding the black eyes locked on him as if the man was trying to decide what to answer. It was first then harry realized that he had, indirectly, asked for insight information that could be dangerous if trusted to the wrong person, and he quickly opened his mouth to say that he hadn't meant to ask for anything like that when Snape suddenly chose to speak.

"Your Uncle is going about work as normal, assigning missions and making plans much like he did when you were there," he said quietly and threw a charm over the room, probably a silencing charm that would hinder anyone from spying on them. "He mainly concentrates on finding new ways of acquiring power. Dumbledore and those following him are still searching frantically for Potter, but the Headmaster have yet to tell anyone of the truth regarding his 'Golden Boy'."

Harry watched the man quietly, stunned that he had decided to reveal the information to him and therefore it took him a while to realize the disdainful way Snape had talked about him. Pain stung his heart before he realized that he had made a faulty conclusion; Snape hadn't talked ill of _him_, he had talked ill of _Harry Potter_, at the same time making quite clear that the potions master no longer saw him as the Boy-Who-Lived. The black-eyed man saw him for who he had become, who he was and could therefore be friendly with him even though he had always despised Potter and everything he stood for.

"Thank you," Harry said quietly, his voice thick and his eyes shining with gratitude. The beetle eyes watched him quietly for a moment, holding complete understanding for the underlying meaning of the simple words, and he nodded shortly in acknowledgment before turning back to the papers on his desk, the sound of scribbling soon filling the room again.

With a grateful smile on his lips, Harry returned to his bubbling potion, a light feeling filling his chest. Even though he was loosing old friends, making new enemies and realized that the truths he had built his life on were lies, he could still smile because he was keeping some of the old and making new friends, and he was discovering new truths filling the empty, gaping hole of the false ones.

He was making himself a complete, new life with a new identity separated form his old one, and he was slowly, almost subconsciously, distancing himself from that old existence. That old existence called by many names, among them Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived and the Saviour.

**That's it! **

**Hope you enjoyed it, and remember to make me happy-happy with reviews: I need it right now...**


	15. Chapter 15

**Okay, people, here's chapter 15! It's proceeding really fast and it's really emotional, just so you know!**__

Harry had been busy taking notes of everything professor Babbling said in his first real class in Ancient Runes, and even thought he only understood a few snippets of what was being said, he diligently continued scribbling instead of giving up and stop listening, intent on looking up his notes later and have Hermione explain them so that he could understand them at least passably.

Then professor Babbling had assigned them to translate a short text from the book, and just as Harry was about to find the right page, a folded scrap of parchment had been put on the bench before him. Glancing discreetly to the side he'd seen Hermione look at him, and she had given him a quick nod before turning back to her book. Harry had taken the scrap and opened it under the table, out of sight from the professor since he still thought she could chop his head off if given a reason, and he had quickly read the note before turning his attention to the assigned text.

"_Meet me tomorrow at 2 pm in the library. I have an idea." _

That's why Harry was now walking through the library, the high shelves towering on each side of his path, the mere sight of the old and heavy tomes enough to make his nose itch from all the dust. There weren't many students there, most choosing to stay in bed or relax in the common rooms since it was Saturday and they liked to award themselves for managing through the first week of school.

It was still hard to find Hermione since the bookshelves created a labyrinth more complex then the one of the dungeon corridors, but after a while he saw her sitting by a table in a secluded corner and rounded the shelf separating them.

"Sorry if I'm late, I don't really know my way among the books," Harry said with a smile as he took the seat opposite to her, and she smiled in return. "So, you hade an idea?" Harry went straight to the point, flipping the note between his fingers before letting it disappear down into his pocket again.

Hermione looked around, uncertain since someone could be listening behind some shelf, so Harry quickly flicked his wand and threw a silencing spell that would stop others from hearing them before nodding to the Gryffindor to show that the they were safe.

"Our problem is that You-Know-Who is back and therefore we need every chance we can get to learn how to defend ourselves, and yet we are stopped from doing so by Umbridge," Hermione began, seemingly wanting to confirm as much before she continued, so Harry nodded even though he didn't fully agree since his problem was that he was bored in a class he usually found interesting. Taking a deep breath as if to gather herself, Hermione met his dull gaze with determination.

"We should start a club of sorts and have a student who knows a lot of Defence Against Dark Arts as teacher who can teach the other students what we should be learning in our Defence classes. That way, we will be prepared when You-Know-Who attacks."

Harry stared at her in silence, realizing that their goals were completely different as Hermione didn't seem to actually want to do something _against_ Umbridge and only seemed to care for the education they were missing, while he was more interested in getting rid of the toad since he thought her classes were boring and useless. After all, he no longer needed to know how to defend himself and it was no longer his concern how the rest of the world would defend themselves against the Death Eaters since he wasn't their saviour anymore.

"Hermione, I don't really care about that," he sighted. "I just want to get rid of Umbridge, okay?"

"You don't care about the education we're missing? You don't care that we have our O.W.L.'sin the end of this year? You don't care that You-Know-Who is back and that we need to know how to defend ourselves or that many innocent lives that could have been saved will be ended?"

Harry winced, it sounded so harsh and cruel when she said it like that. "But if you start that club of yours, you won't be able to teach everyone. Only a few chosen will be able to learn what they need to know, and the rest will be left unable to defend themselves," he pointed out.

"At least those few will be able to do something, and they can help the others. Every life saved is worth the effort," Hermione countered, clearly determined to win this.

"And who would you nominate as that teacher?" he asked, looking for holes in her idea to make her abandon it.

"I don't know," she admitted, her shoulders slumping slightly. "If Harry had been here, I would have had him do it." Worry etched lines in her face, making her look tired and close to snapping under pressure. Harry felt a sting of guilt as he saw his friend worry for him unnecessarily, and he sighted heavily and reached out to taker her hand in a reassuring gesture.

"What do you think have happened to him, Hermione?" he asked gently, both trying to soothe her and genuinely interested in what they thought had happened to him.

Big brown eyes stared into his, filled with surprise before they became glassy and her lips started to tremble slightly. "You-Know-Who must have been able to get past the wards around Harry's house after he took his blood," she mumbled, her voice unsteady. She bent her head and looked down on the table, and he gently squeezed her hand to urge her to continue. "I – I keep thinking that he must have kidnapped Harry and that he's holding him captive somewhere, but I know it's stupid, right? You-Know-Who would just have killed him, don't you think? He always tried to kill Harry, but then why haven't he told us? Shouldn't he want to prove to us that he could outrival Harry when we've all put our hopes in him?"

Her shoulders shook and her voice had become shrill, heavy drops of clear liquid falling from her eyes and crashing on the table. Harry felt his chest tighten and leaned over the table to hug her, his hand gently stroking her hair as she cried against his shoulder. He had thought that they'd all abandoned him, and he had to remind himself that he still didn't know how they would react to what he'd become, but it was obvious that Hermione had yet to turn her back at him.

"I don't know if Voldemort would tell the world that he had killed Potter since he's operating from the shadows and don't want the world to realize that he's back yet" he said truthfully, hearing Hermione's breath hitch. It would be best if she thought he was dead since it would stop her from finding out who he really was.

"Is he… is he really dead?" Hermione sobbed against his neck, the pain obvious in her voice, and Harry screwed his eyes shut in a futile attempt to close out his own pain. He couldn't leave her like this, couldn't let her think that he was dead, not when he heard the pain in her voice.

"No," he whispered.

Hermione pulled back and started at him, doubt in her tear-filled eyes. "You're lying," she whispered. "You just say that because it's what I want to hear."

"No," he repeated silently, knowing he was digging his own grave. "He's not dead, Hermione. He's alive."

Hermine stared at him, her shock and doubt evident in her eyes and her mouth slightly open. "How do you know?" she asked after a long moment of silence.

Harry moved uncomfortably, he should have known the question would come but he wasn't ready for it. He couldn't tell her that he was a follower of the Dark side, if that was what he really was, but she would never give in before she had her answer and Harry didn't think he could lie after their shared emotional moment.

"I…" he trailed off and took a deep breath before trying again. "I'm a Slytherin, Hermione," he ended up mumbling and saw the confusion in her eyes. "Think of what that could mean, okay?"

He got up to leave when her hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, stopping him from leaving. Turning to look at her over his shoulder, he met her determined look.

"Are you… a Death Eater?" she whispered, seemingly scared to utter the word, maybe scared of the answer she might get.

"Not… really," he answered evasively, but she wouldn't relent, determined to get a proper answer. "I don't believe in their views about pureblood superiority and all that shit, and some of the things they do are downright wrong, but…" he trailed off and looked at her pleadingly, begging her to understand. "He helped me when no one else did; he took care of me when I thought everybody else had abandoned me," he said softly, and her determined expression softened along with her grip.

Then a frown creased her brows, and the expression that meant she had realized something crossed he face, an expression he knew all too well. "By 'he', you mean… You-Know-Who himself?" she whispered, her eyes widened as she let go of him, her gaze suspicious as if she expected him to suddenly attack her.

"Yes, Hermione," Harry said quietly and sighted, looking at her pleadingly again, asking her to please not turn her back at him because of this.

"Then… Your uncle, Tom, is…?"

Harry just nodded, his voice strangled by the lump in his throat. What if she saw him as an enemy? What if she went to Dumbledore and told the old fool everything? Then Harry would have no one to blame but himself, and he understood why Slytherins didn't trust easily since it now became very obvious how vulnerable it left him.

They stared at each other, the silence stretching out between them. Thoughts seemed to move through Hermione's mind at the speed of light, but Harry found his own mind to be completely blank. Whatever he did now, whatever he said, the outcome would depend on Hermione's reaction, what she said and what she did, and he didn't think he could affect that.

"We should go to Dumbledore, Elijah," she finally said, but he immediately shook his head. Why did Dumbledore always have to be the solution? "Please Elijah, he can help you! You obviously don't agree with You-Know-Who, so why stay with him when you don't need to?"

"No, Hermione!" Harry exclaimed, the conviction clear in his voice. "Just… no, okay?"

_If only it had been as simple as that, so that everything could be solved by going to Dumbledore_, Harry thought sadly. _If the vampirism had been the only thing it could have been like that, but as it is now, it's so much more complicated. _

He shook his head sadly and sighted. "It's not that simple, Hermione. I know you think the Headmaster can solve every problem, but it's not that simple this time. Dumbledore isn't always what he seems to be."

Hermione looked at him with confusion, seemingly not comprehending that there actually was something that the Headmaster couldn't solve, but then she smiled sadly and reached out, taking his arm in a gentle grip as if wanting to support him. Rising from the chair, she stood and enclosed her arms around him in a soothing hug which he immediately relaxed into, the warmth of her human body spreading through his cool body.

"Thanks for telling me all this, Elijah," Hermione mumbled, her gratefulness evident in her voice.

"You won't tell anyone?" Harry asked uncertainly, well aware that he had no idea of what to do if she decided to go to Dumbledore anyway.

"No, I won't," Hermione said and pulled back a bit, giving him a reassuring smile. "You're a good guy, Elijah. If you say you have no choice but to do this, then I'll trust you, and if the wrong people found out about this, you don't deserve what they might do to you."

XXX

Harry walked through the doors from the library, his mind far away from the simple corridor as he thought about what they had decided after getting past the awkward and embarrassed silence that had hung heavily between them. They had agreed that it might be a good idea to proceed with Hermione's idea until they came up with something else, so they would begin by asking around a bit to see who was interested. When they'd gathered a gang, they could all help with coming up with some way to get rid of Umbridge, but they would also try to teach each other what they knew of Defence Against Dark Arts that could be useful.

Sighting, Harry shook his head. How had she managed to draw him into this, when all he wanted was to get rid of the toad? Sure, if there were more of them, the chance of coming up with a way to get rid of her was bigger, but still!

He was so absorbed in his thought that he didn't notice the other person walking towards him until a shoulder smacked into him in a way that was obviously done on purpose, and he whirled around to see who the other was, only to come face to face with an all too familiar ginger who glared at him with disgust. Blue eyes wandered down the corridor Harry came from and narrowed as the teen that was once his friend drew some kind of conclusion.

"What were you doing in the library, Spring?" he spat angrily, blue eyes ablaze as they turned to lock with dull orbs where the barely concealed anger seemed to boil just under the surface, like a raging current in a seemingly calm river.

"What, Weasley, I don't have the right to be there anymore? Thinking of your grades, you should be the one banned from there," Harry answered, his voice cool with a freezing flame of anger as the rage in his eyes could no longer be concealed by the dullness, the heat of the blaze burning thought the layer of stillness.

Ronald just stared at him, blue eyes narrowed in anger as he frowned, seemingly trying to come up with a smart retort as he clenched his fists by his sides, his whole body trembling with anger. Harry silently stared back, waiting for the reply he knew wouldn't come since he knew the other teen and knew that he was too slow to be able to come up with something biting in such a short time.

After minutes of raging silence between them, Harry concluded that there would be no answer, just as he'd thought, and turned to leave just as Ronald seemed to decide that no reply was needed. Instead he grabbed Harry by the front of his robes and pushed him up against the wall, the back of Harry's head cracking painfully against the harsh stones.

"You were with Hermione, weren't you?" Ronald hissed, his face mere inches from Harry's as he dunked him against the wall again to prove his superiority.

"What if I was?" Harry challenged, refusing to back down as he met the blue glare with his own, the dullness and innocence of his eyes erased as if it had never existed.

"Keep your hands off her, you bloody liar! Don't you think I know what you're trying to do? Getting close to us Gryffindors to get information about Harry!"

Harry stared at him incomprehensively for a moment, disbelief filtering thought the anger. He was quite shocked that the redhead had managed to work out such a conclusion on his own, even thought it was as wrong as it could possible be, and then it hit him what had actually been said.

"I can't believe you, Weasley," he hissed. "For all the reasons I could want to get to know Hermione, you didn't even think of the fact that I could want to get close to her because of her own qualities? You're fucking low, you know that? Not even valuing your own friends!"

Weasley pushed him harder against the wall, his head cracking against the unforgiving stones yet again but harder this time, hard enough to make his vision swim for a couple of moments, the corners darkening so that he could barely see the drawn-back fist that was ready to hit.

"Ron Weasley, what in Merlin's name do you think you're doing?"

Harry was suddenly dropped to the floor, the fist holding his robes and pinning him to the wall no longer supporting his weight, causing him to slide down along the wall until he sat slumped on the floor. His head was hurting terribly, his sight still a bit blurry and he felt slightly dizzy. Therefore he didn't hear whatever Weasly said to his defence, didn't hear his answer and didn't notice his former friend storming off, his fists clenched at his sides in anger.

It all passed him by as a blur of noise, causing him to flinch when someone bent down by his side as he wasn't ready for it.

"Elijah, are you okay?" Hermione asked worriedly, gently placing a hand on his arm as if to assure him that she meant no harm.

Harry gave her a sideways glance, and seeing the honest concern in her brown eyes, he closed his eyes and rested his head in his hand. He was tired and felt worn, but he was already feeling better as the worst dizziness and pain had ebbed away, and his sight was coming into focus again.

"We should go to the infirmary, let Madam Pomfrey take a look at that," Hermione said quietly.

Harry shook his head, just a small careful shake as to not injure his head again in any way or bring the dizziness back. What if Pomfrey could somehow see that he was a vampire when treating him? And he was already feeling better, he'd be fine in a couple of minutes, so there wasn't really anything to worry about.

"No."

"Elijah," Hermione sighted, but Harry gave her a sideward look that held no room for argues but somehow managed to be pleading at the same time. "Okay then, at least let me take a look at it," Hermione conceded with a resigned sight, and Harry nodded hesitantly.

It couldn't hurt, could it? She wasn't a mediwitch, so she wouldn't be able to find out from his blood or anything like that, would she?

"Turn around then," Hermione instructed, and Harry turned his back to her so that she would have access to the back of his head. He felt her fingers in his temporarily pink hair as she pulled out the ribbon to let it fall over his shoulders and then started moving her fingers through his hair, trying to find the injury between the pink tresses.

"You should be a bit careful around Ron," Hermione mumbled, her light and careful touches tickling his senses. "He thinks he needs to protect me from you."

"Then why didn't you just tell him not to?" Harry asked, resisting the impulse to lean into her touch, to lean his body against her and feel her warmth seep into him.

"I just did, but he didn't believe me," Hermione sighted. "I told him you wouldn't do something like that, but he just said I had been deceived!" It obviously ticked her off that Ronald thought she had been deceived and that she wouldn't be able to take care of herself.

"Thank you," he murmured, a slight smile on his lips.

"For what?"

"For still believing in me, even after finding out- What is it?"

Hermione's fingers had frozen in his hair, spread out to keep the hair out of the way so that she could see his wound. A rigid silence fell over them and he could feel her gaze burning into the back of his head.

"What, Hermione?" Harry asked, her silence worrying him. He felt as good as new, a bit sore but otherwise there were no symptoms, so the injury couldn't be that bad, could it? "Come one, Hermione! Did my skull crack so that my brain is bleeding out, or what?"

"No…" Hermione whispered, barely audible. "The injury… it's gone. There's only the scab left, and even that is slowly flaking off," she said, wonder in her voice.

Harry froze, his whole body rigid where he sat, remembering that he'd read in _Dark Creatures: Their Abilities, How to Recognize them and much more _that vampires healed from physical injury much faster than humans. The fear froze the blood in his veins, his mind clouded over with panic as he jumped up and whirled around, staring at Hermione with wide eyes filled with fright. Shit, what if she realized that he was a vampire? What if she understood? What would she do? Would she go to Dumbledore? Start fearing him, thinking he would attack her any moment?

Deep down he knew he was irrational, after all, she had received the fact that he was on the Dark Side with calm, so what made him think she would react any differently to the fact that he was a vampire? Maybe the fact that vampirism wasn't reversible, you couldn't become human again the way you could switch loyalties between Dark and Light.

He stared at her, his mind screaming at him to flee while he could, to run and leave the danger far behind, but his body was numb, immobile and impossible to control. His mind was blank, hindering him from thinking rationally, making him feel like a caged animal, thought he was unsure if he would fight as one.

Hermione stared back at him, her brown eyes wide in shock as million thoughts flashed by in her mind, connecting and gathering to form the final picture, the answer, as it the clues were parts of a puzzle. Then she slowly rose from her squatting position on the floor, walked over to him, a deep serenity in her eyes as she reached out towards him, carefully with controlled movements as if she was trying not to startle him. Much the way one would approach a wild animal, Harry realized.

He shook his head, not sure why, and slowly backed away from her, somewhat seeing her as the predator and himself as prey, even thought the roles should naturally be reversed.

Then one of her hands was on his back, holding him close, the other on the back of his head, her fingers splaying out over the pink tresses with dried blood on them. Her warmth seeped into him, making his rigid body want to relax and lean into the embrace, even though his mind was screaming the he should flee from the danger.

"Hush," Hermione murmured, her voice calm and reassuring. "I won't tell anyone, okay? I understand, now, why you don't want to trust in Dumbledore. Just hush, hush…"

Her calming whispers continued, washing over him, soothing him. His frenzied mind calmed, his body giving into his instincts as he relaxed against her, letting his head fall onto her shoulder.

She knew. She knew and she didn't detest him. He could confide in her and she wouldn't betray him. She was still his friend, the friend he'd had since first year, even thought she didn't know that. She was safe.

He didn't realize that tears of relief were pouring down his cheeks until he was clinging to her, crying of gratefulness into her shoulder and soaking her shirt, all the while letting her reassuring murmurs wash over him, soothingly.

XXX

Later that evening, Hermione sat cross-legged on her bed in the women's dorm of the Gryffindor tower, books and scripts she had borrowed from the library spread out over the crimson bedspread. She had looked up every book she could find that mentioned some sort of quickened healing, and soon narrowed it down to a symptom of being a magical creature of some sort, since concoctions and potions of different sorts were seldom long-lasting, therefore acquired to be taken at least once every other day, or had to be taken after one had been injured, which had not been the case with Elijah.

She did feel guilty, as if she was going behind Elijah's back by trying to find out what had caused his accelerated healing, or rather what he _was_, since she had concluded that the more likely alternative was that he was not fully human. The thought didn't scare her, especially not since one of her adult friends was a werewolf, but it interested her immensely and the curiosity seemed to burn in her veins as she flipped through the pages of the monstrous tome before her.

It would also explain his unwillingness to trust his secret to Dumbledore, since he had surely grown up in a harsh environment where people looked down on him because of what he was, which would explain why he did not trust easily. That must have been what caused him to react as strongly as he did when Hermione found out about his healing abilities, even thought he didn't seem as afraid of her reaction to the fact that he was on the Dark side of the war – a Dark wizard was, after all, still completely human, and often not nearly a despised as Magical Creatures were by the wizarding society.

And the very fact that the average wizard looked down on Magical Creatures such as werewolf caused them to turn to the Dark, where they were accepted and surely promised some sort of protection from the Death Eaters. Since they turned to the Dark, wizards detested them even more, to the extent of assuming that all Magical Creatures were somehow dark and dangerous by nature, making all wizards that weren't Dark turn against the Magical Creatures and dubbing them Dark Creatures.

It was all just ridiculous! Of course the Magical Creatures would turn against the wizards when they were treated like that, making You-Know-Who into the obviously better option. The wizards were fools if they expected any help from Magical Creatures when the war broke out!

Hermione shook her head, exasperated at the people she regarded as somewhat of her kinsmen as she scanned another page. How could they be so utterly stupid! Someone had to realize that they had to start treating all Magical Creatures better, with the equality they rightfully deserved, or they would have no one but themselves to blame when they lost the war because they lacked allies!

With the dark thought in mind she turned another page, her eyes meeting a gruesome picture of a snarling vampire with blood smeared over his human face, dripping from his fangs and splattered across his robes. The vampire's narrowed and animalistic eyes were as red as the blood that was its life source, only a weak hint of intelligence underneath the hunger that seemed to shine in its orbs.

She scanned the page, only picking up the key words and important sentences.

… _predator with enhanced senses, strength and speed… _

… _driven by their animalistic instincts and the need to feed… _

… _intelligent enough to be dangerous… _

… _feeds on human blood… _

… _once human but with no human morality or attachments left… _

… _hard to defeat because of their inhuman healing abilities… _

… _easily recognized…_

She stopped reading, flipping thought the pages to search for something more useful since Elijah obviously wasn't a vampire.

The thought that the contents of the book could be misleading never once crossed her mind, as books had never let her down before. There was a reason to why her first resort was always the library, after all.

XXX

It hurt.

Everything.

Everywhere.

His whole world was made of pain, consisted of nothing but pain.

He was in the bare room again, the walls containing the heat and the floor under him splattered with his own blood. He curled up in a futile attempt to defend himself against the assault of kicks and punches, yet nothing could stop the meaty fists from connecting with his broken body. The fleshy face hovered over him, reddened by the fury powering the hits, spit flying from his mouth along with words as harmful as if the man had found a way to reach his mind and assault it the way he assaulted his body.

"Die, you freak! You're not worthy of living! You're a waste of oxygen!"

Just as he thought the man would kill him, the fist took hold of his robes and lifted him off the floor, only to smash him against the stone wall of the empty corridor that stretched endlessly in both directions. The red face had become freckled, the hair had grown red.

"You fucking liar!"

He was smacked against the wall again, his sight dizzying and darkening in the edges.

"You bloody traitor!"

The crack resounded thought the corridor, echoing between the stone walls, carrying along its length and all the way to its end, if it even had an end.

"I can't believe I ever called you a friend, you rotten piece of trash!"

Blood trickled down the wall, gathering in a growing pool at the floor, a small lake of red that slowly but surely flooded the area, spreading in the mortar between the stones like a giant spider knitting its web in red. Before long the floor of the corridor was covered by a layer of red, obscuring the stones underneath from sight.

His limp and unmovable body connected with the stones once again, the last of his life leaving his body at the impact, the world turning into darkness as he snapped his eyes open and bolted upright in bed. His heart hammered away in his chest, only restrained from escaping by his ribcage, and adrenaline coursed thought his veins. Panic gripped him and he trashed desperately before he realized that the darkness wasn't complete, silvery threads of light peeking around the edges and though the slit of the curtains around his bed.

He slowly regained control of his breathing as he sat there, drenched in cold sweat that plastered his hair to his skull and his clothes to his skin, concentrating on the act of drawing oxygen into his lungs – in, out, in, out.

"_You're a waste of oxygen!_"

Pain pierced his heart, making him think that the violent streams of blood should be seen on the outside since his body was much too broken to be able to contain it. As the worst of it had ebbed away he pushed the curtains to the side and set his feet on the cold stone floor, but not before checking that there was no blood on it. He was thankful that he no longer slept in the Gryffindor dorms, because he wasn't sure he would have been able to handle waking up in a sea of red sheets.

Making his way into the bathroom he splashed cold water into his face to rid of the last traces of the dream before looking himself in the mirror, a pale and worn face meeting his gaze with eyes filled with fear and hurt. The pink-spelled hair stood in sharp contrast, mocking him with its bright colouring.

He'd have thought it wouldn't matter that he'd run out of Dreamless Sleep since he'd had such an emotionally exhausting day, and it was long since he'd begun taking the potions, long since he'd had his last dream. The dreams had surely stopped by now, and even if they hadn't, he was too tired to dream. Or so had he thought when going to sleep early that evening, tired after his meeting with Hermione and the encounter with Weasly. He'd obviously been wrong.

After a glance at his haggard reflection he went back into the dorm and rooted around in his trunk until he found his fathers Invisibly cloak, which he threw around his trembling shoulders before he left the dorm and the Slytherin rooms, soon walking with bare feet thought the slightly chilly corridors of the dungeons.

He stopped outside the wooden door, swaying slightly where he stood as tiredness overwhelmed him, sleep tempting him even thought the dream was still whispering in the back of his mind, sending shivers down his spine. The dark corridor lay empty, cold and silent, but suddenly, something seemed to move just outside his field of vision. He whirled around, breath stuck in his throat as he expected to be smacked against the wall any moment, but there was nothing there.

Throwing scared glances over his shoulder, he knocked on the door with a badly shaking hand, his knocking growing more frantic when no one answered. What if Snape was patrolling the corridors tonight? What if no one opened? He couldn't go back to the dorm now – he wouldn't make it.

Just as he was about to plead for someone, anyone, to open, the door was thrown open and Snape was revealed in a black bathrobe, his hair slightly mussed and his eyes throwing daggers. His gaze darkened further when he was met with a seemingly empty corridor and he was just about to threaten the little brats to come out from hiding when he became aware of the acute sound of harsh breathing from a little more then a step away. Reaching out, his fingers were met with silky texture that he pulled to the side, revealing the trembling teen who looked to be broken beyond fixing.

All thoughts of brats and their pranks left the potions master as he threw an arm around the trembling, naked shoulders of the boy, pulling him inside and looking down the corridor to see if anyone was there to witness the event before hastily closing the door.

"What happened, Elijah?" he asked, his voice soft as he didn't want to startle the teen.

"P-potion," he stuttered, a shiver wrecking his frame further. "M-must brew… po-potion," he managed and took a staggering step towards the fireplace.

Realizing what must have happened, Snape gently gripped the boy's shoulders and led him to the armchair where he sat him down. With a flick of his wand, the Death Eater had summoned the cover from his bed and wrapped it around the boy, hoping to bring some of his warmth back since he was well aware how sensitive vampires were against the cold.

"P-p-" Harry mumbled incoherently, his eyes glazed over and fear lurking in their depts.

"In the state you are, I wouldn't trust you with the easiest of potions," Snape said, applying a bit of sharpness to his tone to make sure his words penetrated the teen's muddled mind.

Desperation filtered into the blue depths and fear crept over his features, making Snape sigh. Did the boy think he would just leave him in this state?

"Stay where you are, try to calm down, and I will make the potion," he clarified, looking deep into the boy's eyes as he kept his steady grip on his shoulders. The worst of the trembling had subsided, he noted, and the teen's breathing seemed to have calmed a bit. Good.

He received nothing but a small nod in reply, but it was enough as he gave the cold shoulders a gentle squeeze before he went to work. A merrily crackling fire was soon illuminating the room with its soft light, stopping the trembles of the teen as the flames warmed him. Snape kept an eye on him as he worked on the potion, noting that the kid had calmed down enough to stare into the flames with an unfocused look on his face, his breathing deep and rhythmical as if he was making an effort to breathe properly.

Snape returned his attention to the potion, working as fast as possible so that he could relieve the boy of whatever gruesome dreams plagued his mind. Of course, Voldemort had told him about the teen's dreams, so the potions master knew fully well how horrid they could be.

Silence settled over the room, the absolute and seemingly impenetrable silence that only night could bring, where the sounds of the room seemed insignificant, somehow unable to disturb the greater stillness surrounding them. Deep shadows danced and lurched wherever the light of the fireplace couldn't reach; in the corners, behind the armchair and the desk, among the many jars on the shelves lining the walls.

Harry's eyelids grew heavy and slipped closed, only to flicker open in the next moment. His head fell down, his chin resting momentarily against the soft sheets covering his body before he jerked it back up, intent on staying awake. His weary mind was crying for him to give into sleep and let it rest, just for a while, for a moment, it couldn't hurt, could it?

_Blood spread thought the spider web, colouring it a dark, pretty red. _

Shivering at the whispering memory of the dream, he pried his eyelids open once again, intent on staying awake. He wouldn't give into sleep; he couldn't. Even thought he felt safe now, he knew the dreams were lurking just around the corning, waiting for him to give into the weariness so that they could pull him into the kingdom of nightmares again.

A hand gently touched his shoulder and he jerked in surprise, realizing that he had nodded off again despite his determination. Snape stood before him, a cup in hand, and Harry reached out for it like an alcoholic would reach for a bottle or an addict for his drugs. The potions master swatted his hand away, deeming him unfit to drink by himself, and held the cup against his lips.

The liquid slipped over his lips, into his mouth and down his throat, and he felt the taut muscles relax as the potion immediately took effect. Snape barely had the time to take the cup from his lips before his head fell forward, his eyes drooping and finally staying close as the potion whisked him away to the land of undisturbed sleep.

**Wow, people, that was intense! Tell me what you think, okay? **

**And this was the longest chapter so far! Woho! 6385 words! You can't believe how proud I am of myself! My old stories were as long as this one chapter is XD**


	16. Chapter 16

**Sorry people, I've kept you waiting a week more then intended! For some reason unknown to me, it was really hard to get this down on paper, and then it ended up being pretty short anyway =,=' **

**Yey! Thanks for the great response on the last chapter****, it must be the best I've ever gotten! XD *dances a happy-happy dance* **

"_Mmmmm_…"

Harry nuzzled deeper into the warm softness enveloping him, curling up with his legs to his chest and his hands clutching the cover that he had pulled tightly around himself, his head bored into the soft yet firm material that he was snuggled up against. He felt like a fat, content little caterpillar in its cocoon, just waiting to turn into a beautiful butterfly and spread its colourful wings.

_I must be turning gay_, Harry's sleepy mind thought, making him snicker lightly into the cover.

"Unless your goal is to break your neck, I strongly suggest you get up from that position," a dry voice commented, making Harry blink his eyes open.

He wasn't sure where he'd thought he was since he obviously wasn't in his bed in the Slytherin dorm, but he was not expecting to see Snape's fireplace and shelves with jars of unidentifiable objects – all turned upside-down, at that, because of his rather strange and awkward-looking position in the armchair.

Turning his head up and to the side, he peeked around the back of the armchair and caught sight of Snape sitting by his desk, quill in hand and black eyes locked at Harry's sleep-mussed head with pink, unruly tresses poking out in every direction. Harry blinked, his blue eyes as innocent and dumb looking as ever. _Why am I in Snape's room?_

The memories of the previous night played through his head, the pain, the blood, the fear. His eyes widened momentarily before he groaned loudly and dropped his head onto the armrest. Really, how could he be so stupid as to think the nightmares would just end? Granted, he was tired, but still he should have known better than that! After all, it wouldn't surprise him if the dreams would follow him to the grave.

"Sorry 'bout that," he mumbled, ashamed over his own stupidity and his behaviour last night. How would anyone ever see him as strong and independent if he kept having break-downs in front of people?

"No harm done," Snape brushed the matter aside before once again fixing his black orbs with Harry's blue ones. "How are you feeling?"

Harry blinked, surprised over the unexpected display of concern from the usually unemotional man. A slight smile curved his lips at the thought that the man cared for him, at least enough to ask how he was feeling.

"I'm okay," he said meekly. "It's been worse."

Snape gave him an inquiring look before he nodded curtly, once again turning back to his paperwork. "Breakfast has already ended, so you will have to go the kitchen if you want something to eat before you brew a new batch of Dreamless Sleep," he informed in his usual emotionless voice.

Uncurling from his rather cramped position he turned over onto his back and stretched with his arms and legs reaching out over the armrests, his back popping nicely as he yawned. "What time is it?" he asked as he let his head hang over the armrest, turning Snape and his desk upside-down as he ruffled his pink hair.

"About half past ten, if I'm not mistaken."

Harry blinked din surprise, laying still for a moment as he watched the potions professor, the tips of his pink hair touching the floor. He was a bit shocked that he had slept for so long, especially after he'd gotten used to getting up early, but with the "nightly activities" he'd gone through, he concluded it really shouldn't be all that surprising.

As if wanting to remind him of the fact that he usually ate his breakfast sooner, too, his stomach growled begrudgingly, making him sigh as he realised he'd have to get up – it had been so warm and comfortable in the armchair…

"You got some Blood Replacement laying around?" he asked as he got up from the armchair, pulling his sweatpants up a bit since they had been hanging a bit too low on his hips.

"You very well know I don't," Snape said, giving him a rather cold glance before he returned to his papers. "You should go take some before you eat breakfast, though. The sooner the better."

Harry nodded, remembering when he'd been late on taking the potion and had been hit by hunger. Shivering at the memory, he took the Invisibility cloak from the back of the armchair and swept it around himself before leaving, making his way to the Slytherin dorm. Once he stood outside the secret passage to the Slytherin common room he realized he couldn't open it without being seen, as it would be suspicious if the door opened by itself and no one came through.

Looking around to see if anyone would show up, he decided to wait for a moment, hoping that someone would either come out of the common room or come to get in, so that he could slip through after them. After having wandered around before the hidden passage for a few minutes he gave up.

Sighing, well aware that questions were sure to arise if anyone saw him, he took the cloak off and folded it so that the fact that it was an Invisibility cloak wasn't as obvious. He spoke the password and walked into the common room barefoot, only dressed in a pair of sweatpants with his pink hair hanging loosely over his shoulders. Luckily for him there were only a few kids from first and second year occupying the armchairs around the fireplace, eager to use them when they had a chance to without the older students around.

He walked passed them as casually as he could, pretending as if everything was normal even though they were all staring at his with wide eyes. It was impossibly hard to make his way to the dorm as fast as possible without making it look as if he hurried, especially as he felt his throat starting to itch and he could easily guess why. Finally he closed the door behind him and hurried over to his trunk where he found a bottle of Blood Replacement that he downed in a few gulps, the itching immediately subsiding.

Relieved, he sank down to sit on the edge of his bed, where the cover had been left in a heap on one end, the overly stuffed pillows spread by the headboard from the past night when he'd left. For a moment he just sat there, his elbows on his knees and his head resting in his hands, drawing deep breaths as he calmed down. He hated being vulnerable the way he was, depending on a potion that he wouldn't be able to live without.

His growling stomach woke him from his musings, making him rise with a sigh. Taking his sweatpants he went into the bathroom and took a quick shower to wash away the lingering sweat from the previous night, before he quickly combed his hair and tied it up with a blue ribbon that clashed horribly against the pink hue.

After he'd dressed, he made his way out of the Slytherin rooms, the younger students staring at him again, and through the corridors to the kitchen, grateful he hadn't met anyone he knew who could question where he'd been all morning. Tickling the pear and making it giggle, he was let into the busy and seemingly overpopulated kitchen of Howarts, the hardworking house elves immediately flocking around him, eager to do his bidding.

"I missed breakfast, could you bring me some of the leftovers or something?" Harry asked, his eyes scanning the many faces with big globe eyes to see if he could find Dobby anywhere in the crowd. It didn't seem as if the house elf was present, thought, and he was soon brought out of his thoughts as an elf led him to a stool by a small table where he was to sit down, a full breakfast soon served for him on the small table.

Realizing he should have been more specific in order to hinder them from giving him a mini version of what was saved in the Great Hall, he sighed heavily before digging in, his hungry stomach growling as if to hurry him up. A good portion of scrambled egg, toast, bacon, sausage and orange juice later, he was more then finished with breakfast and felt like he could roll all the way back to Snape's rooms.

Maybe he could take a nap in the armchair before he started brewing?

XXX

Snape was sitting by his desk, correcting and grading the homework from the summer, a tedious task that was made overwhelmingly boring by the fact that a depressingly slim amount of the essays were even worth reading. Glancing to the side he found Harry curled up in the armchair, training nonverbal magic, making small but clear progress that was far beyond any expectations Snape had ever had.

Come to think of it, the boy had done extraordinary progress in his potions studies now that he had started caring for the subject, and from being one of Snape's worst students along with Longbottom he had risen to become one of the best.

Shaking his head, Snape threw a glance at the clock on the mantelpiece and found that it was nearing time for lunch. Harry had, of course, finished brewing the Blood Replacement potions a little over an hour ago, yet the teen had refused to leave, arguing that he didn't want to see any of his friends right now since he didn't know how to explain his absence this morning.

Harry pulled a bright pink lock that had escaped from the ribbon to trap it behind his ear, and Snape scowled. Why hadn't the teen done something about that horrid hair colour yet? Just looking at it was enough to make his eyes hurt. Without a second thought he picked up his wand from where it lay beside him on the desk and flicked it lightly, making Harry's hair shimmer slightly before bubbles suddenly erupted to cover his whole head, the bubbles turning pink as they absorbed the colouring of his hair, and dripped off a moment later to disappear before they hit the fabric of the armchair.

Startled, Harry sat up straight, hair hands flying to his hair as if he wanted to check if it was still there. Pulling a stand forward he stared at the now blond hair and blinked a few times in surprise before he turned to Snape.

"Hey, I liked that colour!" he exclaimed, pouting with his bottom lip stuck out and eyes wide as if they were about to get teary any moment.

"It was awful," Snape said curtly, well aware that the teen was just playing around.

He was proven right as the teen grabbed an imaginary dagger out of thin air and plunged it into his heart as if Snape's words were killing him with their venom. He made a gurgling sound before falling back in the armchair, his arm hanging "lifeless" over the armrest, his body jerking a few times before he stilled.

A slight smile, so small it wouldn't be visible if you didn't look for it, curved Snape's lips as he shook his head at the teens antics. How come he was able to smile and joke after all that had happened to him?

"If you're smiling I'm gonna get a heart attack, Snape," the teen said from the armchair as he peeked at Snape from under his blond bangs, and the potions professor quickly wiped all amusement from his face.

"How dare you even suggest such a thing?" he drawled as he looked down his nose at the grinning teen. Harry was just about to answer when a knock on the door was heard, and Snape frowned.

"Who is it?" he demanded, seeing Harry gather his potion vials.

"_It's me_!" Draco's voice announced through the wood of the door.

"Shit, shit, _shit_!" Harry cursed quietly as he threw his Invisibility cloak around himself, which he had brought back to Snape's room with the thought of going unnoticed by his friends.

"Come in, Draco," Snape called as soon as Harry was properly hidden, and the door was opened to reveal the pale Malfoy heir. He stepped in and shut the door behind himself without looking, and therefore he didn't see that it took a bit too long for the door to close and he also missed the way the strange, warped shadows disappeared out into the corridor before the door shut.

With Harry out of danger of being revealed, Snape turned his attention to his platinum blonde godson with a black brow slightly raised.

"What brings you here, Draco?"

"Have you seen Elijah?" Draco asked, abandoning the Malfoy manners as he usually did when alone with his godfather.

"Should I have?" Snape countered, avoiding the question.

Draco shrugged and threw himself down in the chair on the other side of the desk, some of his posture left because of habit. "I haven't seen him all morning, he was even gone when I woke up and no one else have seen him," he said silently, a slight hint of worry but also frustration in his voice.

"I can assure you there is no need for worry, Draco. Elijah is fully capable of caring for his own safety," Snape said, gaining a resigned nod in reply.

"Who is Elijah?" Draco suddenly asked, changing subject as he looked up at his godfather with an intense gaze.

Black eyes met gray ones, emotionless and yet holding a slight threat as they wordlessly demanded for Draco to back down and leave the subject. Gulping, well aware of what Snape was capable of, Draco decided to push forward as he knew his godfather would never hurt him unless he over stepped the boundaries by far, and this was yet unthreaded territory.

"I know he's our ally, but he doesn't share our views and he doesn't- He just doesn't fit in! I don't understand him, Severus!" Draco exclaimed, the frustration over the matter clear in his voice. "One moment he's all innocent and cheery, and the next you wonder why you haven't dropped dead because he's looking at you!"

"Draco," Snape said quietly, but it was enough to stop the teen's tirade as Draco fell silent. "If the Lord had deemed you worthy of knowing Elijah's true identity, he would have seen to it so that the information reached you," he said coldly, seeing Draco shrink back a bit in his seat. "Do not pursue Elijah's true identity anymore, Draco," he finished.

Draco opened his mouth as if to protest, then sighed and got up from the chair, turning to leave. With his hand on the door handle, he stopped, his back against Snape as he seemed to try to figure something out.

Then, with his back still turned to Snape, he said: "He's been here before, Severus," and opened the door, leaving Snape to stare at the wood when the pale teen had disappeared.

He leaned heavily back in the chair and put his arm over his eyes, a sign of weariness and defeat that he would never let anyone see. His godson wasn't far from realizing who Elijah really was, and since he'd realized he was someone who'd been on Hogwarts before, it was only a matter of time before realization hit him. The only thing keeping him from the truth now was probably the fact that he'd befriended Elijah and subconsciously couldn't accept that he was, in fact, his former enemy.

Running his hand through his black tresses he rose with a sigh. _I will have to warn Harry as soon as possible_, he thought as he left his rooms, aiming to go to eat lunch while he cursed the teen's carelessness.

XXX

Darkness had fallen outside, the stars and the moon hidden by the clouds that were emptying their wet contents onto the world, smattering against the windows of the castle, the surface of the lake and the many leaves of the forest's trees. It went unnoticed, however, by the students in the Slytherin common room, where the fire along with the lamps lit the faces. Most of the students had already went to sleep since they had to get up early the next morning for classes, but Draco and Elijah had decided to stay up and do homework for a bit more since their first class was History of Magic - what was the point in going to bed early for the first class when you wouldn't listen anyway ?

Therefore they were now gathered around the fireplace; Pansy in an armchair, reading _Witch Weekly_ while twirling her long looks around a finger; Blaise and Teo sat on the thick carpet in front of the fire, playing a game of Exploding Snap that they had somehow muted so that the explosions wouldn't be so loud; and Elijah and Draco sat on the couch, Elijah nodding off a little now and then with his Ancient Runes book laying open in his lap and Draco working on the potions homework Snape had given them.

Draco glanced to the side as Elijah's head dropped down so that his chin was resting against his chest, blond hair falling down to hide his peaceful face from view. Asking Snape hadn't gained him any answers but it had confirmed that Elijah was, in fact, much more than what met the eye. It also confirmed that Elijah was someone important, someone close to the Lord, which still seemed strange since the seemingly innocent teen obviously didn't share their views. Still, it didn't give him any hints as to who Elijah really was.

All he knew was that he'd been at Hogwarts before, but all grown wizards in Brittan had gone to Hogwarts to get their education, thought the way he acted made Draco believe he was younger then that, closer to Draco's own age, which meant…

Before his line of thought could go any further, he was startled as Elijah's head suddenly dropped onto his shoulder as the sleeping teen tilted to the side to lean against Draco. The slighter body leaned heavily against him, seemingly trying to melt into him, attempting to meld the two of them together. Draco looked down at him in surprise, finding the innocent face completely relaxed with a content smile on the pale lips.

Draco wasn't sure what to do, he wasn't used to people being so comfortable with touching him and clinging to him, since most kept their distance out of fright or respect. Such things never seemed to bother Elijah, thought, who was now snuggling closer as if trying to get as much contact with him as possible, his face turning and nuzzling his neck as if the slightly shorter teen was sniffing him.

Jerking away slightly in shock at the unexpected action, he made the sleeping teen fall off his shoulder, but instead of falling down on the floor as Draco had expected him to, Elijah fell onto his lap, his head resting against his chest. Miraculously still asleep, Elijah groaned in dislike at the sudden change of position but didn't hesitate to nestle closer until he was practically laying in Draco's lap, his head resting against his chest and his hands lightly gripping at his shirt.

Draco stared down at him, his arms held out to the sides as he was unsure of what to do with them, unwilling to touch the other as he simply didn't know how to act in a situation such as this. Searching for help, he looked up and met Pansy's amused eyes and she gave him a bright smile that made it clear he had chosen the wrong ally. She rose with grace that was to be expected of a pure-blooded Slytherin and put her magazine down in the armchair before going over to them, a dangerous glint sparkling in her eyes as she put a finger over her lips, signalling for him to stay silent.

Under Draco's suspicious gaze she managed to move them around so that Draco lay with his back against the armrest of the couch, Elijah snoozing peacefully against his chest with his face pressed into the crook of Draco's neck, the lean legs resting between Draco's own. How could the other teen, who was supposed to be a Death Eater close to the Lord, be so relaxed and sleep so deeply when they were moving him around like that?

Sending a glare at Pansy since this position didn't make the situation any better, he realized she wasn't finished as she grabbed his wrists and guided his hands to rest around the smaller form in his lap so that he came to hug him. The platinum blonde teen gave Pansy a slightly alarmed glare, unsure since he didn't know what she was doing, but she just smiled deviously in return.

Looking around the common room that was now empty except for the group of friends, the Slythering girl soon spotted a blanket the she brought over and draped over them as if tucking them in for the night.

"What are you doing?" Draco hissed, but he kept his voice low so that he wouldn't disturb Elijah's sleep.

Pansy just walked back a few steps and looked at them with a content smile as if satisfied with the result of her efforts. Then she nodded, deeming it acceptable, and walked off towards the women's dorms.

"Pansy! _Pansy_!" Draco hissed, shooting a glance at Teo and Blaise who obviously wouldn't be of any help as they were both grinning in a quite unslytherin way. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Just stay where you are," Pansy said silently and winked to him. "It doesn't look like you're suffering any."

And with that she was gone, leaving him with a sleeping Death Eater of much higher rank then him in his lap. As he stared after her, Teo and Blaise seemed to decide it would be a good idea to follow her lead and picked up their cards to leave.

"Remember to get some sleep, Draco. You know it's Monday tomorrow and we have Potions as second class – Snape won't be happy if you fall asleep in class!" Blaise said merrily while walking off, a grinning Teo right at his heels.

"And who's fault would that be!" Draco hissed, but they'd already closed the door to their dorm behind them. Left alone with the sleeping enigma in his lap, Draco stared down at the innocent face that rested on his shoulder.

Frenzied thoughts filled his mind, but somewhere in the jumbled mess he realized that it actually felt kind of good to have the lithe form in his arms. Relaxing against the cushions of the couch he let his head lean to the side and rest against the back of the furniture, automatically giving Elijah easier access to his neck. Not really aware of what he was going he let his mind drift off until he fell into deep and relaxed sleep.

XXX

It was warm and he was comfortable, his breathing deep and in tact with the soft rising and falling of his mattress. The thought that his mattress usually didn't move barely made itself through his sleep-dazed mind as he yawned and nuzzled deeper into the warmth that enveloped him.

The fresh and clean smell of cologne and shampoo reached his nose and he instinctively sniffled to get more of the smell, his sleepy state of mind easily giving in to his vampiric instincts. Humming lightly in contentment, he sneaked his arms around his moving mattress and rubbed his cheek against the firm yet soft comforter before he slipped off to the land of undisturbed sleep yet again.

**I saw the Green Hornet just the other day and wonder: is it anyone but me who itches for a KatoXBritt fic with the evil guy Chunjosky (or whatevery his name was) like the evil, perverted guy who gets off on blood and is after Kato after the scene where Kato's leg is trapped? No? Just me who wants that fic? O,o Well, if anyone gets my not so subtile hint *hint, hint, nudge, nudge* then tell me when you've written the fic and I'll love you forever! XD (I'd write it myself if it didn't have this fic to finish first) **

**And even thought your mind is now filled with thoughts of a KatoXBritt fic (What? It's not? 8O) I think you can still handle a teeny review for me ^^**


	17. Chapter 17

**Okay, so here's chapter 17, at last =,=' I know I'm late, but it's been a lot in school for a while now, and I've been too tired to have any energy to write. We've got a holiday now though, so I hope to write some more, but I won't promise anything and since I finished this chapter just now and haven't even started the next one, it will take a while for chapter 18 to be finished - so be prepared for that...**

A sedate silence hung over the classroom, only broken by the dry voice of professor Binns that flowed out over the yawning students, reminding them of the sound of turning pages of a really old book where the parchment seems likely to pulverise if you aren't careful enough. The sky outside the windows was clouded, leaving blue patches where the sun shone through to dance over the grass and the far-off forest, the wind dancing playfully among the branches and leaves.

Harry watched the specks of dust that floated through the air, shown to the world by the sparse sunlight peeking in through the windows. In difference to the rest of the class, he was far from sleepy as he had slept better then he'd done in a long time, completely free from any dreams whatsoever even thought he by mistake hadn't taken the potion. He'd already sworn and cursed over his own stupidity since he should know better than to let himself fall asleep, especially after what had happened the night before, but as angry as he was with himself, this wasn't the main factor in his thoughts this morning.

As the thought wandered through his mind his blue eyes moved from the window to the platinum blonde Malfoy heir who sat a bit away from him. He remembered that they'd been sitting in the couch by the fireplace, and he's been reading the Ancient Runes book, but since he barely understood anything and was too tired to put in much of an effort, he had, evidently, fallen asleep. So far, so good, but how the hell had he ended up sleeping in Draco's arms?

As if he could feel Harry's gaze boring its way through the back of his skull, Draco turned around to look at him, making Harry immediately look away. He had avoided talking to Draco all morning, even avoided being near or looking at the other teen. What was he supposed to do? He really didn't know how to act around the other, especially since he still hadn't quite gotten over the shock of waking in the other's embrace, nuzzling him and cuddling like two lovers.

When his sleepy mind had finally become coherent enough to process the information provided, he had scrambled away from the sleeping Draco and, as a result, fallen off the couch and crashed down on the floor, effectively waking the other teen. The two of them had stared at each other for a moment, blue eyes displaying shock while grey ones showed confusion and alarm as none of them knew what to do. Just as Draco had opened his mouth, ready to explain, Harry had decided to postpone the confrontation and had taken flight to the dorm, and since then he had put his effort into ignoring Draco.

Blue eyes strayed from the window yet again and glanced at the pale teen for a moment, seeing the grey eyes glare daggers at Pansy for some reason unknown to Harry. Why would Draco be angry with Pansy of all people? It didn't help that Pansy mischievously winked at the Malfoy heir, obviously ignoring the death glare she was receiving. Really, what was going on between the two of them?

To avoid being caught staring, Harry turned his attention towards the windy world outside the window as professor Binns went on in the background, not one of the words registering in Harry's busy mind.

Even though it sure was disturbing that he'd slept in Draco's arms, it wasn't as disturbing as the fact that he'd actually_ enjoyed_ it, however unwilling he was to admit it. Before he'd realized who he was sleeping with, or rather _on_, he'd thought that it was really comfortable and warm with the blanket over them, as Draco provided extra warmth that Harry otherwise had to do without. To have the other's arms wrapped around him, holding him close, had made him feel secure and relaxed, and he had felt calmed when listening to the steady and sure beat of Draco's heart.

A small little voice in the back of his head that Harry quickly deemed as his worst enemy suggested that it might be nice to try it again, but Harry mercilessly squashed it. Sure, he'd slept really well the whole night, without any dreams whatsoever, and he felt completely relaxed, but…

Harry's thoughts came to a screeching halt as his dull eyes widened in shock. He'd slept _the whole night_, _without any dreams_ whatsoever. How was that possible? Since he'd fallen asleep in the couch he obviously hadn't taken his Dreamless Sleep potion, and the night before proved that the nightmares hadn't ended by themselves, so why hadn't he had any nightmares?

Deciding to ask the person who knew him best for the moment, he picked up parchment and quill from his bag and sent to write a letter to "Uncle Tom".

_8 September _

_Dear Uncle Tom,_

_I trust you remember the dreams I've suffered from during some time? _

Harry stared at the parchment, uncertain of how to continue. How was he supposed to tell the Dark Lord that he had slept together with Draco Malfoy? He ransacked his mind for an answer before deciding to try to get away with being vague, and continued.

_8 September _

_Dear Uncle Tom,_

_I trust you remember the dreams I've suffered from during some time? _

_Last night I fell asleep while studying, and ended up sleeping on the couch together with one of my dorm mates. I slept well throughout the whole night, free from the nightmares, and I would like to know if you have any idea of what could have caused this, since it would make me relieved if there was a way to rid of the dreams. _

_With hope to hear from you soon_

_/Elijah _

XXX

Feeling the unmistakable prickling sensation in his neck, Draco turned around in his seat only to see Elijah quickly turn away, the dull eyes locking through the window and glaring at the outside world. The other blonde had avoided him all morning, seemingly blaming Draco for what had happened last night, but it wasn't even his fault! As soon as he had managed to collect himself enough to explain what had happened, Elijah had sprinted off and he hadn't gotten a second chance since then.

Turning back towards the front of the classroom where professor Binns went unnoticed, the Malfoy heir opted for glairing at the one truly guilty for the problems he had, but Pansy just smiled and winked at him, completely ignoring his death glare. Usually, Draco could understand his childhood friend and detect the motives behind her actions, but this time there was no logic behind her behaviour at all!

What motives did she have for creating this situation? Did she want Draco and Elijah to become enemies so that she could get to Elijah since her previous advances obviously hadn't worked? But she was never that serious about pursuing guys, just saw it as a game to pass the time…

Since they'd know each other for a long time, Draco could quickly conclude that the Pansy he knew would never do such a thing.

But then what did she want?

If Draco had been alone in his bed, protected from view by the curtain, then he would have rubbed his face and maybe ruffled his hair, trying to vent his frustration. As it was, he was in a classroom filled with his housemates and Ravenclaws, so that wasn't an option, and he had to do with running his hand through his hair and sighing quietly. Why did there have to be so many confusing dilemmas to brood over already this early in the school year? The first term had barely started and already Pansy was behaving strangely and he had a living mystery, namely Elijah, to figure out!

Thinking of Elijah…

Draco closed his eyes and swallowed discreetly as he thought of how it had felt to have the other teen in his arms, the slightly smaller body relaxed against his own. Soft hair had tickled his collarbone, hands had gripped his shirt and the teen had nuzzled closer, as if he couldn't get enough of the body contact and wanted more even in his sleep. His skin had been cool, just warm enough to not be cold, yet too cold to be able to produce any warmth of his own. At the time, Draco's sleepy mind had only registered how good it felt and that it was very practical since it meant it wouldn't be too warm with the two of them under the same blanket, but now it made him wonder why Elijah was so cold, almost as if he didn't have any body warmth of his own.

The bell rung and signalled the end of class, making Draco rise along with the others. Picking up his shoulder bag, he turned towards Elijah who was already on his way to the door, and followed him with a sigh. There wasn't much he could do at the moment, but as soon as they were left alone, he would make sure to keep the other blonde form fleeing, physically restraining him if needed, and tell him what had really happened so that there would be no more misunderstandings between them.

Watching the blonde, loose ponytail swish languidly over Elijah's back as he walked, Draco followed him along with the rest towards the Potions classroom. As usual it was crowded in the corridors as students changed classes and travelled between their classrooms, and it became quite hard to keep track of Elijah as he made his was though the crowd.

Crowded or not, Draco didn't miss the fact that Elijah sent off a tentative smile to someone in the mass, and following the blue gaze he found Granger smile back reassuringly. Turning to look back at Elijah, he found that a relieved and genuine smile had replaced the uncertain one, making Draco frown slightly. What did the silent exchange between the two of them mean? What was going on between them?

Shaking his head in a small motion that drew the questioning looks of his friends, Draco decided not to mull over the new questions filling his mind. He already had too much to think of with his childhood friend behaving strangely and his new friend being a complete mystery.

XXX

Rain smattered against the window and a crackling fire in the fireplace tried to clear the dampness from the air. Red eyes scanned the short letter, narrowed in dislike as the many untold meanings behind the words appeared clearly to him, as if it had all been written there, with ink on the white parchment.

Harry had become very intimidate with another student during the past week, it seemed, since he would hardly be relaxed enough to sleep with someone he didn't trust in. And yet he'd warned him not to depend on others, not to trust too easily. Who was this other student who had managed to charm his little vampire so easily without Tom's consent?

Wrenching his straying thoughts from their track and efficiently quenching the feeling of something akin to strong dislike and possessiveness that he couldn't identify, the Dark Lord turned his thoughts towards more important matters.

He was well aware that Harry wished to be independent from the potions he was now forced to take on daily basis, and therefore he understood why his little vampire was so interested in exploring every possible way of being able to handle life without them – such as the chance to be able to sleep peacefully without taking the Dreamless Sleep potion.

Tom did not like to have to come to conclusions without more facts at hand, and since it had only occurred once it could have been a coincident. Of course, it would have been better if Harry could try one or two times more too see if it got the same result, but the mere thought of his little vampire being intimate _again_ was enough to make the Dark Lord glare into the flames.

No, he would have to make do with the little information the teen had given him, and make his conclusions form that. Experimenting was unquestionably not an option.

Human closeness made vampires relax instinctively since it provided them with warmth and also subconsciously assured them there was a source of blood close by if hunger would overcome them. Hence it was all but surprising that intimacy with a human would make Harry relax, but was that all it took to relive the young vampire of his guilt ridden dreams?

XXX

The days went by quickly as Harry did his best to avoid Draco, who in turn put great effort into hunting him down, trying to corner him at any given chance. Snape had warned Harry that Draco was close to the truth, giving the young vampire yet another reason to avoid the blonde. It was like a game of cat and mouse, but the analogy didn't quite fit as Harry was far from as defenceless as the mouse would have been at the claws of the cat.

The answer from "Uncle Tom" had arrived, presenting the theory that his instincts (discreetly not mentioning what instincts they were talking about in case someone else read the letter) made him relax when he enjoyed closeness with someone else, and that the state of relaxation allowed him a deep enough sleep to save him from the dreams. He also put forth the theory that the one he enjoyed closeness with had to be someone he fully trusted since he wouldn't be able to relax properly if he didn't feel secure. It all sounded plausible, except for the last part about trust – did he really trust Draco that much?

He spent a lot of time with Hermione, since Draco didn't want to associate with the muggleborn witch even thought he no longer called her a mudblood and even warned others from doing so. Together, they talked about their "uproar" against Umbridge, and they both asked around among their friends to see if anyone might be interested in joining. It had been decided that they would have a meeting the upcoming Saturday, in one of the empty classrooms where Harry and Hermione could put up wards that would allow them to be undisturbed, without anyone listening in on them.

At the moment, it was Wednesday morning at Harry's free period after lunch, caused by the fact that he only had one additional subject. The first third of September had gone by and autumn was creeping up on them, having announced its presence by the past two day's of slow drizzle that had swept the lands in an obscure grey, faithfully followed by a harsh wind that tore at your clothing as soon as you went outside of the castle's protective stone walls, making Harry happy that he didn't study Care of Magical Creatures.

Today, however, the sun was shining from its perch on the blue velvet sky, fluffy clouds making their way over the blue at a sedative pace as Harry fantasised about how it would be to lay back on a cloud and watch the world drift by. A slightly chilly breeze made the green grass flow in waves and plucked leaves from the trees of the forest to bring them along for a bit, ruffling Harry's blonde hair on the way, nearly as an afterthought.

The sun warmed his back as he walked over the grass towards the secretive gloom of the Forbidden Forest, the wide trunks soon flanking his sides as he strolled aimlessly under their mighty crowns. It felt good to relax and let the lukewarm day warm his cool body, to be able to wander freely without being encased by thick stone walls or having to look around corners to avoid bumping into a certain blonde. He let his fingers brush against the rough bark of a tree he passed and smiled.

Usually when walking through the Forbidden Forest he would feel the danger lurking just out of sight and find the rustling in the bushes to be threatening, but not anymore. Instead he felt… safe, as if he belonged among the many mythical creatures among the trees, and as a vampire, a Dark Creature, he guessed he really did belong. Did that make him no more than an animal? Or was he more like the centaurs, with their intelligence and humanity?

His train of thought was broken as he wandered into a sunlit clearing and was met by tousled, dirt-blonde hair and bare feet, the toes curling into the grass and dirt on the ground. Luna Lovegood was turned to the group of Thestrals who were standing before here, her back against Harry as she threw pieces of raw meat to the skeletal creatures.

As if sensing his presence, she turned to look at him over her shoulder, the usual dazed look in her silver eyes as she seemed to gaze at something far beyond what others could see. "Hello, Elijah," she greeted him airily, a distant smile on her lips, and for a moment it actually sounded as it she'd called him Harry.

Quickly collecting himself, he smiled back. "Hi, Luna." Walking up to stand beside her, he watched her feed the Thestrals under companionable silence, just enjoying the sun as it shone down between the trees.

"It's sad how they're misunderstood, you know?" Luna said airily, not looking at him but at the black, horse like creatures as they tore the meat to pieces. "They're beautiful, but people fear them because they think they're a bad omen. It's quite sad, but you already know all about that, don't you?"

Large, silver eyes turned to him, and for once it actually seemed as if she was looking _at_ him and not past him. The words made him freeze in place, his mind completely blank as he stared at her in shock. Did she know about him? Was that what she meant with him knowing about misunderstood creatures? Vampires were, after all, severely misunderstood by society, which was the cause of the general opinion – much like Thestrals were feared.

Before he could come up with an answer, she gave him a bright smile and turned back to the Thestrals again. "Do you like dressing up as someone else, Elijah?" she asked innocently, but Harry, his mind already alert form what she'd previously said, quickly detected the possibility of another meaning to her words. "I've always liked dressing up; when I was little, I often dressed up as a Blast-Ended Screwt," she informed him happily, leaving Harry unsure if she really did know or not. If she did, she would be the first to figure out what and who he really was, while the others were only just scraping at the surface of it all.

Watching as Luna threw the last piece of meat to the Thestrals, he realized she was as unpredictable as one could possibly be, and that she could and would surely surprise them all many times more before any of them got used to it. And maybe, just maybe, some of the strange and random stuff she blurted out actually held a well hidden speck of truth in them, making her a unique source of knowledge that few others had. After all, there was a possibility that she might know more than either Draco or Hermione did, and even thought he didn't know if he could fully trust her or not, he could always go by the old saying.

_Hold your friends close but your enemies closer still. _

"Hey, Luna, I was wondering what you think of our new Defence teacher?"

XXX

The rest of the week went by without much happening. Draco was still trying to corner Harry, Harry was still avoiding him as if he was a natural at it, and Pansy was still smiling deviously and winking at him whenever she got the chance. Their class in Defence Against Dark Arts was just as boring and mind numbing as the others, and Harry kept company with Granger, either in the Great Hall or in the library, often with books of Ancient Runes spread out between them but just as often with their head close, whispering about the little uproar they were planning.

Draco had, just like the others in their gang of Slytherins, been asked if he wanted to participate, but he mostly agreed because the others did – and because they would need someone there to pull them out when they got caught.

That's why he stood outside the appointed classroom on Saturday, along with Teo, Blaise and Pansy. They were all a bit early, so that they would be able to see the others when they came which would let them keep track of who was there easily.

Blaise, who for some unknown reason was really eager to get to the meeting and seemed to be very positive about the idea of the "uproar", stepped past Draco and opened the door, revealing a completely ordinary classroom, empty except for Elijah and Granger. The blonde Slytherin sat on the teacher's desk, lazily playing with his wand as he nodded to something the bushy haired Gryffindor said, thought the muggleborn fell silent as soon as the door opened and looked up at them with slight uncertainty, making Elijah turn to them. Innocent blue eyes blinked a few times before he smiled and nodded to them before turning back to Hermione and urging her to continue with what sounded like a list of things they should talk about at the meeting.

The newly arrived Slytherins made themselves comfortable in chairs around the teacher's desk and made to wait, their attention divided between the door and Elijah and Granger. It didn't take long until the Indian Patil Twins arrived, so much alike it was hard to tell them apart. Granger greeted them happily, seemingly relieved that she didn't have to be alone with Slytherins anymore, and the twins took seats a bit away from the Slytherin group, effectively distancing themselves from them.

They'd barely sat down when the door opened again, this time by Ginny who was followed by Neville, and they quickly took place beside the Patil twins as the two groups that had formed threw glances of distrust between each other. Lovegood waltzed in a few minutes before the appointed time, just as lost in her own world as usual, the only sign she gave that she'd noticed them being a surprised blink, as if she hadn't expected anyone else to be there.

Then she turned to Elijah and gave him a happy smile. "Hello Elijah. Hello Hermione. Hello Ginny. Hello-" and so she continued until she'd greeted all of them by name, before she took a chair and sat down in the middle between the two rivalling groups, as if she couldn't see herself fitting in either of them. Quite frankly, Draco couldn't understand why she was there at all – everyone knew she was completely off.

The Weasel twins, just as identical and mischievous as always, arrived just on time, laughing happily at some in-joke no one else would ever understand, waving at everybody with exaggerated motions as they took place beside Elijah on the edge of the teacher's desk instead of joining one of the groups. They chattered amiably with Elijah and Granger, seemingly discussing different ways to prank professor Umbridge, all of which Granger disapproved off with dislike while Elijah grinned and nodded enthusiastically.

Fifteen more minutes passed by, the appointed time of their meeting disappearing further and further away with each tick of the clock, but they were obviously waiting for someone else who had yet to show, and no one but the Slytherins seemed surprised that the ones they were waiting for were late.

Finally, twenty minutes after the appointed time, the younger Weasel, Ronald, burst in through the door along with Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas. The three Gryffindors immediately glared at the Slytherins before joining the growing group of non-Slytherins. They were obviously the last ones, as Granger cleared her throat and turned to the two clearly separated groups with Lovegood in the middle.

"Elijah, would you put up the wards?" she asked, her voice wavering a bit due to nervousness, and blue eyes swept over the students sitting before him, blinking in surprise as if Elijah hadn't been aware that everyone had arrived, though Draco wasn't fooled – as a highly ranked Death Eater, he simply couldn't be that clueless.

Flicking his wand, the seemingly innocent boy mumbled incantations that Draco had only ever heard of, some completely unfamiliar to him as several different wards fell in place around the room, ensuring their privacy and safety.

"Done," Elijah declared lightly and turned to Granger with an attentive expression, his fingers playing absently with his wand. The female Gryffindor nodded in turn before turning her attention to the rest of them, her eyes filled with determination, unwavering even as she fought her own uncertainty and hesitation.

"As you all know, we are here because the situation with professor Umbridge is… unsustainable. Therefore we have to find a way to acquire the information she is keeping from us-"

"Or get rid of her," Elijah cut in, drawing everyone's eyes to the blonde. It was quite obvious that while Granger was concerned about them missing valuable education, Elijah cared more for the fact that he didn't like Umbridge, and was therefore planning to get rid of her.

"Yes," Granger admitted with a sigh. "But first and foremost we should help each other to learn what we are missing, and then, as second priority, we can try to come up with a way to get a new teacher. Our problem, for the moment, is that we are unsure how we should organize this, since we do not have a teacher available who can help us."

"Can't we ask Dumbledore?" Ronald Weasly piped in, making everyone stare at him, the group of non-Slytherins with a thoughtful expression and the Slytherins with unshielded contempt. "What? He was a Defence teacher, wasn't he?"

"No, Ron, he taught Transfiguration," Granger corrected him tiredly, making the Slytherins sneer as the Weasel's face fell. "And even if he had taught Defence, I'm afraid he is too busy, _as you should very well know_, Ron," she continued, giving the ginger a sharp look that made Draco frown. Did the two of them know something about the Headmaster that was being kept form the rest of them?

Before he could contemplate the thought, Elijah broke into the conversation, his voice light and smooth, yet enough to catch everyone's attention. "Shouldn't we just help each other? I'm sure a few in here knows stuff that others don't know, so…?"

As he trailed off, silence filled the room as the gathered students thought of what they could possible know that was worth teaching the others – at least that was what Draco thought the Gryffindors were thinking, as he himself knew quite a bit that he was sure they had never been taught since it was either seen as inappropriate for a teen to know or simply viewed as Dark. Throwing a glance at Elijah, he realized that the blue-eyed teen probably knew even more of the sort then Draco did, if his position close to the Lord was anything to go by.

"Then Hermione should be our teacher!" Ronald declared, smiling brightly at his female housemate. "I don't know anyone who could rival Hermione at spells, right!" he continued and looked around at his friends, as they all nodded, silently agreeing.

"_Ron_," Granger said, a dark blush spreading over her cheeks as her gaze flickered a bit, her nervousness shining through. "We said we should help each other, since I'm sure there are many other than me who knows valuable spells."

"Yeah? Who?" the Weasled asked, looking triumphant.

Draco's grey eyes narrowed at the thought of having a _muggleblooded Gryffindor_ teaching him how to defend himself against Dark Arts, and scoffed silently with dislike. He had to admit that she did know quite a lot, but she could not possibly know more than someone who actually _knew_ Dark Arts.

"I nominate Elijah as our teacher," he said smoothly, causing the blonde perched on the teacher's desk to whirl around and stare at him, obviously not prepared for the possibility that he could be nominated as their teacher.

"A Slytherin as Defence teacher?" Ronald said with distrust, glaring at them. "He probably doesn't know _anything_ but Dark spells."

"A teacher with experience would know more than one without," Draco countered coldly, his eyes narrowed to a cold glare that should have frozen the unsightly ginger to his seat.

"Aren't both good?"

They all turned to stare at the owner of the airy voice as Lovegood blinked owlishly, seemingly unused to all the attention she was getting.

"What a great idea, Luna!" Hermione said quickly before anyone could oppose her, a relieved expression clear on her face. "Don't you all think so, too?" It was more of a plead for them to agree than an actual question, and they all dutifully nodded – after all, having both Granger and Elijah as their teachers was a lot better then only having the muggleborn or some other brainless Gryffindor who thought himself a defender of the despicable _Greater Good_.

"I-" Elijah began, a look of discomfort in his eyes that made it clear he was about to protest that he didn't want to be appointed their teacher. He was quickly silenced as both Granger and Draco sent him warning glares, while the Weasel twins' more concrete solution was to clap a hand each over his mouth to silence him.

"Good! Now that we've all agreed-" A warning glare was sent in the subdued Elijah's direction. "- I think we should decide on what to call this… group, since a name would create a sense of communion. Any ideas?"

She was obviously getting more used to her role as some kind of leader as she sent a hopeful look over the gathered students as the Gryffindor group started thinking, thoughtful expressions on their faces while Draco rolled his eyes. Getting a name was just ridiculous, why even bother? It wasn't as if some silly name could make a truce between Gryffindors and Slytherins.

A few suggestions were put forth, from the anti-Umbridge-guerrilla to the down-with-the-idiots-at-the-Ministry-group, one suggestion worse then the other. Hermione rejected all of them without second thought, looking more and more tired each time as if she couldn't believe how childish they were while Elijah sat at the teacher's desk, snorting and shaking his head at the stupidity. Draco almost envied him for being allowed to show his emotions so openly, but also had to wonder how much of what they saw was really true.

Sighing, he let his mind drift back to the main problem about trying to figure out Elijah – which part of him was the true one? The external, innocent and cheery one, or the more internal, dark one that proves that he really is a Death Eater? Normally, the answer would be obvious; the external personally would only be a cover to hide his true personality and make people trust him, but when it came to Elijah, he couldn't be so sure… There was something with his cheeriness that was too honest to be faked, even thought his innocence was sure to be played.

"Dumbledore's army!" Ronald Weasly exclaimed, breaking through Draco's thoughts, making him turn to the red-head in time to see the group surrounding him nod in approval. Before the Malfoy heir could voice his complaints, Elijah cut in, surprising everyone since it was the first time he commented on any suggestions – even the worst ones had merited nothing but a laugh as the blond had left it to the muggleborn witch to reject them.

"No," he said sharply, effectively cutting through the approvals and drawing everyone's attention with his hard and unwavering gaze that had been so innocently amused mere moments before. "I will no participate in a group that is in any way connected to the headmaster."

Draco watched his housemate with interest as the inner darkness came forth, the sense of danger returning as he stated his refusal with unquestionable finality.

"Who said we wanted you Slytherins here anyway?" the younger Weasel hissed angrily.

Blue eyes, cold and hard as if a glacier had frozen over the usually dull puddles, turned towards the ginger and impaled him, making it quite clear that he better die right on the spot. "Wasn't I just chosen as one of the teachers?" he asked icily, his tone making Draco shiver slightly as he remembered the one time he'd been at the receiving end of Elijah's anger.

Silence settled over the room as Elijah waited for the ginger to answer, the subject for his anger swallowing hard under the cold stare. As he opened his mouth to answer, the blonde simply lifted a brow inquiringly, the only thing it took to make the red-headed Gryffindor flinch.

"How about the 'Defence Group'?" the Weaslette cut in, catching Draco's attention as it effectively put an end to the upcoming fight and actually was a good suggestion – at least the best one so far. They would be able to use the name openly without waking suspicion since it might just as well refer to a study group with people who need help with Defence Against Dark Arts, maybe someone who didn't understand the book? Obviously, the fact that they were mostly Slytherins and Gryffindors mixed would make people wonder, but Granger had always had a thing for house unity, so why not? Of course, her new and strange friend, Elijah, would help her drag some Slytherins into it…

"That's a good one!" Granger said approvingly, and only waited for a few of them to nod before she clapped her hands together, hurriedly marking the end of the discussion. "If no one else has anything to bring up, I think we should decide the day and time for our next meeting, and start our classes then. If anyone knows someone who's trustable and agrees with us, feel free to bring him or her along."

It was quickly decided that they would meet next Saturday, in the same classroom, though they decided to move the meeting to a bit later on the evening, so that it wouldn't get in the way for the upcoming Quidditch practise that was going to start soon.

They left the classroom in small groups of two or three so as not to wake suspicion if anyone was there to see them leave, and Draco was greatly surprised when Elijah grabbed his arm and pulled him along out of the classroom after the Weasel twins. The blue-eyed blond had avoided him all throughout week, so why would he suddenly initiate contact? Grey eyes stared at the back of the blond head as they marched through the corridors, and then widened when Elijah suddenly pushed him against the wall as if meaning to beat him.

Instead of smacking painfully against the unforgiving stone, Draco stumbled backwards into a dark, hidden corridor behind a tapestry, quickly steadying himself with a hand against the wall to hinder himself from falling. Elijah quickly came in after him and pulled the tapestry in place behind them so that no one would be able to see that there was something out of the ordinary, before innocently blue eyes turned to him.

"Why did you nominate me?" he hissed, a slight hint of stress barely audible.

"If anyone can teach Defence Against Dark Arts, it's someone who knows the Arts," Draco explained coolly, quickly gathering himself and masking his surprise. "Alastor Moody was mad, but he knew what he was talking about."

Tension stilled the lithe body, blue eyes momentarily widened with pain and fear, but it was all gone so quickly Draco couldn't be sure it had ever been there.

"So you believe one Death Eater can do it just because another could?" Elijah asked bitingly, but Draco barely noticed the acid in his tone, as it was the first time the other teen had openly admitted he was a Death Eater. But that meant…

"Moody was a Death Eater?" Draco asked, too surprised to care about his Malfoy honour and pretend to already know as he usually would have done in order to save face.

"Yeah," Elijah muttered and sent him a dark look thought the gloom of the corridor before he sighted, seemingly trying to calm himself as he leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest in a defensive stance. "It was Barty Crouch Jr under the disguise of the Polyjuice potion, placed there by Voldemort as part of his resurrection plan. Dumbledore found out after…" A slight pause, uncertainty and confusion flittering over smooth features. "… after Harry Potter had come back from the graveyard."

Draco focussed intently on the conflicted features of his mysterious friend as the blue gaze wandered off, lost in thoughts and memories. The amount of information was more then enough to prove his high standing, but if the emotions displayed were anything to go by, it seemed as it the teen had been there and seen it all himself, which couldn't be possible. No one unexpected or new had been at the Lord's resurrection, except for Potter, of course, or so his father had said. Not to mention that the truth about the fake Moody would have spread if another Death Eater had been present.

Thoughts that might have led him to his goal were once again interrupted as blue eyes turned back to him.

"You still shouldn't have nominated me, Draco. They might find out who I am because of this," he said accusingly, making clear who he would blame if he was exposed. It sounded as if there was something more in those simple words, as if he referred to something that was left unsaid, but Draco didn't know what that could be.

"Gryffindors already think all of us know Dark Arts simply because we were sorted into Slytherin," Draco scoffed. "They're more likely to be surprised if you wouldn't know Dark Arts."

The blue gaze trailed off again, thoughtful and seemingly torn, as if uncertain whether to agree with Draco or not, so Draco took the long awaited chance to finally explain what had really happened the night when they had slept together on the couch.

"Elijah, about what happened the night between Sunday and Monday-"

As soon as he realized what it was about, the blonde turned on his heel and made his way towards the tapestry leading out into the common corridor, but Draco quickly grabbed his arm and pulled him back. Seeing to it so that the other teen wouldn't try to escape again, he pushed the slightly smaller boy against the wall and put his hands on the cool stone on each side of his blond head, caging him.

"Just listen to me, Elijah," he asked, pleading as much as his Malfoy pride would allow him to – which wasn't much, but more then normally since Elijah actually was a senior Death Eater and therefore of higher standing, which allowed a bit of inferiority. Of course, he would never have used such drastic measures under normal circumstances, but there was something about Elijah that caused him to make exceptions.

"Not like you give me much of a choice," the blonde grumbled, but Draco wasn't fooled as he was well aware the other teen could probably hex him into oblivion for what he was doing.

"I don't know what you think, Elijah, but nothing happened on that night, okay? You fell asleep while studying, and ended up leaning against me. I was unsure of what to do since I didn't want to wake you, and Pansy offered her assistance, though her solution to my problem was far from anything I could have imagined, as she rearranged us to lie in the position in which you woke up, and then she put a blanket over us." It sounded much more formal then Draco might have wished, but hiding behind formal speech seemed to make it somewhat easier, as it would have been far to embarrassing to talk of otherwise.

They stared at each other for a moment, blue meeting grey through the gloom, before Elijah gave a slow blink.

"Oh," he said slowly, as if it had taken a while for the words to sink in. "So… Pansy?"

"Yes, I have no idea what she's planning," Draco admitted, relieved that it was over and done while frowning with dislike at the thought of not understanding his childhood friend. He still couldn't wrap his mind around what her objective might be.

"Okay… Truce then?" Elijah asked hesitantly, looking up at Draco through blond tresses that had escaped the blue ribbon, eyes returned to their innocent blue, all traces of danger and threat gone as if it had never existed.

"Yeah, truce," Draco agreed with a slight smile, earning a relieved smile in return.

"Can you let me go then?"

Realizing he still held Elijah captured against the wall, he took a quick step back and lowered his hands to his sides, feeling his face heat up as he was reminded of the soft feeling of Elijah's body pressed against his own as the slightly smaller male slept peacefully in his lap, nuzzling his chest with his cheek. Judging by the faint blush colouring Elijah's cheeks, he, too, felt _something_, as the blonde nervously scratched his neck and let his blue gaze wander off to the side, as if he didn't dare look directly at Draco.

After a final glance from blue eyes peeking through blonde stands, Elijah gave a vague gesture that could barely be recognized as a wave before he turned and disappeared through the tapestry, leaving Draco along in the gloom of the hidden corridor. The proud Malfoy heir leaned heavily against the wall, much like Elijah had done minutes previously, and breathed deep and steady breaths to calm himself.

Why the hell did he react like this when reminded of that one time of closeness?

**Okay, that was it ^^ Hope you liked it and tell me what you think - my mailbox have been depressingly empty for the passed weeks :'( **


	18. Chapter 18

**Review ****replys (one for all, since most asked pretty much the same quiestions ^^): **

**Yes, this really is a TomXHarry fic, but there will be a bit of "wrong-side business" before we come to that, and there won't be any real TomXHarry action before a certain thing has happened. Besides, how do you all expect them to get together when they're not even seeing each other, and the only one who's gotten started on his emotions so far is Voldy? **

**Yes, Harry is going to become more vamp-like, and ****REALLY SOON *wink, wink, hint, hint* ^^ So far, his goal is to live as normally as possible, right? Then he can't be as vamp-like as we might want him to be, right? **

**Ab****out Harry getting a more Dark personality… Well, it hasn't even been 2 months since Harry was bitten, and he's been a good-natured kid all his life, so that can't possible change over 2 months, can it? And why would Harry turn Dark? His goal is to live the life he wants and to do the things he wants to do, to be able to be the teenager he actually is. I see no reason for him to turn Dark just yet. Of course, he will change, but I'll need a few things to happen before that, so just you wait and see ^,~**

Sunday went by leisurely as they mostly stayed in the Slytherin common room, occupying themselves with homework and games while the steady drizzle wet the outside world and swept it in grey, a thick mist rising from the lake and spreading over the surrounding grass, obscuring the world from view. Whatever they did, Pansy somehow always managed to arrange them so that Harry and Draco would sit beside each other, or team up together in one of their games. The two blonds shared questioning glances, silently asking the other if he happened to know what the female Slytherin was aiming for, but none of them had a clue.

Monday rolled around, starting their third week of school without much happening. They openly slept or occupied themselves with other things without professor Binns noticing, and pretended to read while they were actually plotting silently against Umbridge as the pink toad watched them with a smile as if she was proud of their efforts. During lunch, Harry often sat at the Gryffindor table with Hermione, studying Ancient Runes and joking with the ginger Twins, and the evenings were dedicated to homework, playing around in the common room and, in Harry's case, studying nonverbal spells.

Before he knew it, the bell rang and finally marked the end of their Defence class, putting an end to their torture and boredom as Harry swiftly hid his scribbled runes in his Defence book and dumped it into his shoulder bag. Since it was Thursday it was their short day when classes ended at 3 pm, and Harry would usually meet up with Hermione to study Ancient Runes, go through their notes from class or discuss what to do on the next meeting with the Defence Group, but she'd come up to him at lunch to say that she'd have to study since she had a test in Arithmancy, which left him with free time to dispose of however he might wish.

Of course he _could_ choose to be a good student and go with the others to the library to study, but his grades were overall remarkably better then they'd been last year since he'd picked up Draco's habit to do the homework the same day they got it instead of sitting up late, doing it the night before it was to be handed it as he had always done with Ron.

The thought of the time he'd shared with his old friend enabled pain to pierce his heart with its sharp claws, digging holes into the pumping muscle until blood gushed out, spreading through his whole being in the form of guilt and emotional pain. Those had been good days, he'd been happy even thought he'd unknowingly fought to fulfill the expectations of the world, but he couldn't return to that now that he'd discovered how little time he'd had to actually enjoy himself and just be the teenager he was without having to worry about what others would think.

Still, there was really no reason for the hostility between him and Ron – if Ron hadn't been so prejudiced against Slytherins they could have been friends, just like he was with Hermione, but since the ginger so firmly hated everything Slytherin or even remotely Dark, there was no chance of any such friendship.

Shaking his head to rid himself of the depressing thoughts, Harry made his way down the stairs on his way towards the dungeons, where he would use his free time to brew a new batch of Blood Replacement since he'd taken the last vial in the morning. As usual, there were a lot of students filling the corridors, making their way towards the next class, to the library to study or to some homely common room. The crowd thinned as the classes began, only a few students wandering the corridors much like Elijah did, on their way to some place where they'd spend their free time.

"Spring!" a familiar voice shouted, making Harry stop just as he'd entered an empty corridor with windows showing the grey and drenched world outside. Turning towards the voice, he faced his former friend and locked eyes with angry blues that had once looked at him with such friendliness.

"Yes, R- Weasley?" Harry asked tiredly, almost slipping up and calling him Ron. He really wasn't up for a fight with the ginger, not when he'd just had a trip down memory lane and realized that the hostility was as useless as it could possible be and they might have been friends even now if the circumstances had been slightly different.

"What's your purpose in staring DG?" Ronald asked accusingly, staring angrily at him, his body tense and ready for a fight.

Harry blinked slowly. DG? Oh, the Defence Group, had the Gryffindors already shortened the name?

"_Too stupid to remember it otherwise_", he knew Draco would have said and had to keep himself form smiling, well aware that the comment would have ticked him off about two months ago.

"I'm only interested in getting rid of the toad," he answered, wondering what the ginger was aiming at.

"Oh yeah? And you think I'll believe that?" the Gryffindor asked fiercely, his glare growing heated as he took a step closer. "You can't trick me that easily, even thought you've somehow made Hermione believe in you."

Raising his blonde brows, Harry looked at him questioningly. "I haven't tricked Hermione into _anything_," he said harshly. "She's the one who came up with the idea to start the Group."

"Of course she did, she's the smart one, but you somehow manipulated her into it! You're just trying to make us all trust you so you can teach us Dark Arts and turn us Dark, but I won't be fooled! I won't turn into one of You-Know-Who's minions!" Ronald stated with determination, a hint of triumph in his voice as he thought he was revealing Elijah's evil plans to the rest of the world.

"Ronald," Harry sighed wearily, briefly wondering how many conspiracy theories the ginger had thought up for him. "I really just want to get rid of Umbridge," he stated, trying to sound as convincing and sincere as possible.

"NO!" Ronald shouted furiously. "Don't deny it, not when I've figured this one out!"

Harry stared at him in question, his blue gaze incomprehensive as he didn't understand what the other teen was talking about. Before he had a chance of figuring it out, Ronald had closed the distance between them and grabbed his collar, pulling him close.

"Someone's got to do it now that Harry's not here, and that someone's going to be me!"

Innocently blue eyes widened in realization as he understood what his former friend tried to do. The previous years there had always been something to save, be it a housemate form a troll or the world from the Dark Lord, but there had always been something, and Harry had always been the one to save them all. Now, when there was no savior present, Ronald had taken it upon himself to protect the school from evil, and he seemed determined that the evil in question was Elijah.

"No, Ronald. You're wrong," Harry said sharply, but Ronald didn't want to listen, didn't want to be proven wrong as he wanted to be the savior, the one everyone looked up to, even if only for once.

"Your are not going to ruin this for me!" he hissed angrily and drew his fist back to punch Harry when a shriek broke through the corridor and the two boys turned to look at the younger Hufflepuff girl who stood in the other end of the corridor, her hands covering her mouth and her books spread out on the floor by her feet where she had dropped them.

"Shit!" Ronald exclaimed and pushed Harry away from him as he took a step back, ready to run. Unprepared for the sudden shove, Harry stumbled back and lost balance, his blue eyes widening in shock as he fell backwards. A sharp pain exploded in the back of his head as his skull hit the stone edge of a windowsill, and the world blacked out of existence before him.

XXX

As he opened his eyes, everything was white: white bed with white sheets with a white side table, and all of it surrounded by a white drapery that shielded him from the world. He didn't notice much of his surroundings, however, as it felt like he was suffocating, his throat parched and contracted until it became hard to breath. His mouth was just as dry and his whole body was aching, his insides cringing as if it was about to come out because he felt so _empty_ and in desperate need for something to fill him up with.

Gasping, his panicked brain noticed that it all seemed a bit familiar, and he realized that it was the same as when he had been late with taking his Blood Replacement potion when back at the mansion – it was the blood thirst setting in.

He rolled over, barely keeping his twitching fingers from scratching his throat – maybe, if he scratched, he could wet his throat with his own blood, or make a hole to breathe through because it was getting so _bloody hard_ to breathe. His whole body shaking, he managed to plant his feet onto the floor and rise, luckily still dressed in his own clothes as he pushed the white drapery out of his way.

He had to get out of here, away, had to get some Blood Replacement. Desperation evident in his blue orbs, his gaze flickered around the whiteness of the empty infirmary, and he quickly made his way over to the double doors leading to the corridor outside, the way to his rescue.

"Mr. Spring? Where do you think you are going?" Madam Pomfrey asked sharply from somewhere behind him just as he had his hand on the door handle, but it didn't stop him from opening the doors and rushing outside. Running as fast as he could, slightly unsteady on his feet as the breath caught in his throat, he soon reached the Entrance Hall where he stopped, panting for air as he suddenly remembered that he didn't have any more Blood Replacement hidden in his trunk – he'd taken the last vial the same morning.

His eyes widened in panic as he leaned against the rough stone wall. There was nothing he could do, no Blood Replacement to get, nothing to save him from going mad from blood thirst, to stop him form attacking someone and drain him or her until a corpse was the only thing left. One of his dreams made itself reminded, where he walked through the halls of Hogwarts, his friends and other students laying of the floor, pale and drained, dead.

Who had Blood Replacement except for him? No one, since it expired so quickly, not even the infirmary would have it stocked. So who could make the potion except for him, since he obviously wasn't fit to start brewing?

Snape.

Not caring about the first years that came out of the Great Hall, pointing and staring at him, Harry pushed himself away form the wall and summoned up the last of his determination to continue even as he fleetingly wondered why he didn't just give up, why not take one of those first years?

Without him noticing, his hand rose to scratch at his throat, the pain giving slight relief from the thirst as he dug into his own skin, blood soon trickling over his fingers as he supported himself with his other hand against the wall. He felt his legs ready to give in under him and was gasping for oxygen his lungs desperately needed but couldn't seem to get as he swallowed over and over, trying to wet his throat that felt like its walls were clad with sandpaper.

When he finally reached the potions professor's door, he felt his sanity starting to slip as animalistic instincts were close to taking over. Reaching out to knock on the door, he smacked his open palm against the hardened wood, only for it to give in under the heavy pressure of unintentional magic. A shocked Snape whipped around, his black robe whirling around him as he stared at Harry who was leaning heavily against the doorframe which was the only thing keeping him form collapsing.

"B… b…" Harry rasped hoarsely, licking his lips with a dry tongue in a futile attempt to wet them, but he didn't need to say more as seeing the desperate and animalistic need in his eyes was all the professor needed to understand. Snape swept over to him like the bat so many thought he looked like, grabbed his wrist and forced the hand he hadn't even noticed away form his throat with a look of deep dislike.

A whip of the wand and the wooden splinters were soaring thought the air, mending themselves and combining with each other until the door stood strong again while Snape pulled the gasping and whining teen over to the armchair in front of the fireplace. Pushing the blonde down into the armchair was too easy as he seemed to be on the verge of loosing his human mind, all his strength focused on keeping his animalistic needs in check.

"Drink."

The one word was enough to pull Harry from his internal fight as he looked up, only now noticing that the professor leaned over him with his hands on the armrests on each side of the panicked teen, his head leaned to the side and the black hair swept out of the way to bare the crane of his pale throat. Blue eyes widened, desperate need and panic giving way to shock as he shook his head.

"No," he rasped, a new reason to panic making itself known as he remembered how he had been bitten when he was turned that night that seemed to be an eternity ago. Desperate for blood or not, even if the blood was offered willingly, he couldn't do that to someone.

"Brewing the Blood Replacement potions to sate your thirst would, indeed, be preferable, but I am afraid there is no time for that," Snape said harshly. "Drink."

Harry stared at the bared neck, for the first time picking up the sound of blood rushing thought veins as it was offered willingly to him. He felt his fangs extend until they pierced his bottom lip, drawing blood and forcing him to open his mouth. As the vampire in him urged him on, he hesitantly, unwillingly, leaned closer, breathing in the scent of chemicals and potions that was Snape.

The promise of the blood that rested just under that pale skin made his mouth water slightly, and his throat constricted a bit more as his whole body protested against the unnecessarily prolonged wait. The rush of blood seemed to hum with an untold promise in his ears as he breathed in the scent of Snape in deep breaths, and all thoughts were erased from his mind as he leaned closer still, the tip of his nose touching pale skin as he traced the vein. Angling his head to touch the skin right over the vein with his lips, acting on pure instincts without thinking, Harry lifted his arms and placed one hand on Snape's back, the other entwining its fingers in black locks to keep his head in place.

A last, deep breath before Harry opened his mouth and placed the tips of his fangs over the vein and bit down, burying his fangs in the vein and sealing his lips around the wound to stop any of the blood to go wasted as he sucked greedily and swallowed his first gulp of blood. A needy moan escaped him, a low rumble in his throat as he tasted the rich and positively delicious blood of a human for the first time, and his blank mind fleetingly provided the question of why he hadn't done this before.

"Elijah."

Making a desperate, keening noise of need, he pressed himself closer and felt the ache of his body subside to a pleasant hum of pleasure, pressure building in his abdomen as he greedily gulped down more blood, taking as much as he could. The bleeding scratches on his throat were healing, the caked blood soon the only evidence that there had been a wound there.

"Elijah, stop," Snape said sternly, the warning clear in his voice, but Harry answered with a low growl as his grip tightened in the black hair and robes, unwilling to give up on his source of blood.

The sting of a burn cut through the pleasure of the blood and he shot back with a yelp, his hand covering the slight burn mark on his shoulder as he stared up at Snape with wide eyes and the look of a wounded animal. His eyes were immediately drawn to the still bleeding wounds on the side of the professor's neck, before he noticed how pale the man was, more so then normal. Blue eyes met black ones and they stared at each other for a moment that seemed to stretch out to eternity before sanity returned to the blue gaze and his eyes widened in shock as he paled.

"Sorry," he whispered as he realized he had lost himself completely to the temptation of the blood, and he could still feel the pleasurable tinge coursing though his blood, towards his groin. He felt a drop of blood running down his chin from the corner of his mouth and quickly averted his gaze to dry his mouth with the sleeve of his robe while he felt the heat spreading over his cheeks as he realized how wantonly he'd moaned against his professor's neck.

"It is a natural reaction," Snape said, his voice slightly uneven, and Harry nodded, unconvinced and embarrassed.

As soon as the professor had straightened and no longer caged him in the armchair with his body, Harry got up and headed towards the door, desperately needing to get back to the dorm to solve his prominent problem that refused to go away as it fed of the buzz in his veins. Before he could reach the door, Snape grabbed his upper arm and held him from leaving, thought Harry refused to turn towards him, instead opting for facing the door, his head bowed.

"You should find me at least twice a week, maybe more, and undisputedly you must come here whenever you feel the thirst awakening so that you do not lose control, do you understand?"

Harry nodded silently, biting his bottom lip as the hand squeezing his bicep seemed to be the center of his world, his suddenly hypersensitive body overreacting to the simple touch even thought there was cloth between their skin. An awkward moment of silence stretched between them as Harry tried to calm his quickened breathing, and then, finally, Snape let go of his arm and he was out the door in record time.

He rushed back to the Slytherin rooms where a few students who were early back from dinner occupied a few of the armchairs, but none of them paid him any attention as he hurried past them and into the empty dorm, where he only stayed long enough to throw his clothes off before he got into the bathroom. In the confines of the shower with its white tiles with emerald green snakes on, he turned on the water as cold as possible and let himself collapse against the cool wall, his head leaned back as liquid ice washed over him, effectively deflating his problem but just as quickly making his cool body tremble as it futilely tried to warm him.

When he thought he'd freeze to death, he turned off the water and dried himself before going back into the dorm, putting a pair of sweatpants on and closing himself in in his bed with the curtain spelled shut. Pulling the thick cover over himself, he curled up into a ball and stared wide-eyed into the darkness under the sheets.

He'd drunk blood, _human_ blood. He'd fed of a human like some vile animal acting on animalistic needs and instincts. And, worst of all, he'd _enjoyed_ it. He'd felt pleasure like a flame burning though his systems and he'd been aroused when tasting the blood, when violation a human and steeling away his life.

As long as he'd been able to keep the vampire in him at bay, he'd been able to live as a human, to pretend that he still was human, but this had with unwanted clarity made it obvious that he no longer had the right to see himself as human. He was no better then the vampire who'd bitten him and turned him into a vampire – the fact that he hadn't stopped when Snape had told him to proved it beyond doubt.

Hiding himself under the cover, still trembling from the cold shower, he was overcome with disgust at himself and what he had become as bitter tears trickled down his cheeks.

XXX

"I'll go check if Elijah is in the dorm," Draco said as he left the others in the common room after dinner. They'd all thought Elijah would join them at dinner, and so they'd been surprised to find that he was nowhere to be found it the Great Hall, neither by the Slytherin nor the Gryffindor table. As Snape was seated by the head table, they could quickly conclude that their friend wasn't with the teacher doing whatever it was that the two of them did together, and it didn't help that the bat like man looked slightly worried.

As they had finished their dinner, Draco took the initiative of walking over to the Gryffindor table to ask Granger if she might know where the blonde teen could be, even thought it was a harsh blow against his Malfoy pride to have to speak to the muggleborn openly, for every student at Hogwarts to see.

"You haven't heard?" the bushy-haired girl had asked with wide eyes. "Ron and Elijah had a fight, and Elijah was sent off to the infirmary. Ron is with McGonagall now – I don't think I've ever seen her this angry before."

Swearing quietly under his breath, Draco had told the others and they had gone to the infirmary, only to find a confused Madam Pomfrey tell them the teen had literally fled with a wild look in his eyes as soon as he'd woken up, leaving his bag behind. Taking the bag, they'd gone back to the Slytherin rooms in hope to find their friend there, and as soon as he'd seen there was no familiar blonde head among the armchairs, Draco hurried to the dorm and left the others behind with a gnawing feeling that something was very wrong. After all, it wasn't often you saw Snape worried, and what reason could Elijah have had for fleeing from the infirmary in the eye-catching way he had?

He found the dorm calm and quiet, dark as no lights had been lit but otherwise looking just the way it had when Draco had left it along with the others in the morning – except for the fact that there lay clothes on the floor by Elijah's bed, and his curtains were shut closely and surely spelled with the usual _silencio_.

"Elijah?" he asked, well aware that it was unlikely the blond would be able to hear him because of the ward, but it didn't stop him from trying as he walked over to the bed beside his own. "Sorry, Elijah, but I'm coming in."

Twisting his wand and mumbling _finito_, he quickly rid of the sticking spell keeping the curtains closed and pulled them to the side. He didn't know what he'd expected to find, but it wasn't Elijah curled up under his cover, trembling like some scared animal. Realizing that he was no longer alone, Elijah moved around under the cover until bloodshot eyes stared up at Draco with wildness and self-hatred in the blue gaze, his eyes puffy and wet with salty tracks running down his cheeks where tears had trickled.

"What happened?" Draco asked softly, climbing up to sit cross-legged on the bed so that he could close the curtains behind himself to ensure their privacy. "Elijah?" he asked as he was left without an answer, and he looked more deeply into the usually innocent eyes only to be met with a animalistic wildness he had never seen before, mixed with despair and uncertainty.

Sighing, weary because he didn't understand and Elijah wasn't helping, he moved closer only for Elijah to discreetly move away from him, blue eyes darting to his neck, his eyes and hands, scared and uncertain, much like a cornered animal.

"Hush, I'm not going to hurt you," Draco mumbled and reached out, easily capturing the blonde this time since he had backed himself up against one of the posters and couldn't go any further without falling out of the bed. He pulled the other teen closer and locked his arms around the slight frame, keeping him from escaping as much as embracing him. Despite the circumstances, it felt good to have the blond back in his arms.

Elijah tensed in his grip and moved a bit as if trying to get away, blue gaze restlessly flickering between grey eyes and a pale neck tickled by even paler hair. Draco watched those blue eyes quietly as they flickered back and forth, fright clearly visible in them as if the teen in his arms was afraid of his neck, however ridiculous it sounded, but was still mercilessly drawn to it by some undeniable magnetism that only he knew of.

Suddenly, a suspicion that would explain everything made Draco blink as he looked into those blue eyes, and to confirm the idea, he pushed the cover a bit to the side and snaked one of his hands inside, quickly finding a wide expanse of bared skin that he figured was Elijah's back. Lightly stroking the ridges of Elijah's spine, he made the blond tense further in his arms, his blue eyes wide in surprise.

"Wha-?" the slightly smaller boy choked out, but Draco didn't listen to what he had to say as he put the open palm of his hand against the cold back. After a moment, the blonde seemed to relax against the warmth of the hand, shrinking back against it as if seeking to come closer, thought it seemed to be entirely subconsciously as his blue eyes were just as startled.

Smiling, Draco leaned closer and slipped more of the cover off of the thin shoulders before he pulled the smaller boy into his lap and pressed him close against himself, the blond shivering slightly before his body relaxed into the warmth without his mind's consent. Draco's smile widened into a very uncharacteristic, unslytherin grin as the pieces of the puzzle finally fit into their right places and created a full, clear picture.

Of course, now that he knew the truth, it all fit: why Elijah always seemed so cold and why he relaxed whenever close to human warmth, and, finally, why his eyes were drawn to Draco's neck against the blonde's will. It even explained the animalistic notion in those blue eyes, but most importantly, it explained why he was a follower to the Darkness and also why he was so highly ranked, because even thought the opposing side of the war seemed to think so, there weren't many vampire's among the allies of the Dark, caused by a practical but very prominent problem – blood.

Vampires usually hunted strong wizards with no care for if the wizard happened to be a pureblood, and since some of the strongest wizards were among the ranks of Death Eaters and would therefore be inaccessible to the vampires if they chose to join the Dark, they had never managed to make a pact with the vampires. After all, the only blood the dark had in abundance was the blood of muggles, blood completely free of magic, and vampires had no interest in that.

Stroking his hand in soothing circles over the bare back, Draco softly mumbled that it was okay, that he understood and it didn't matter as the young vampire calmed in his embrace. And Draco did understand everything – finally.

XXX

Red eyes scowled into the dying flames of the fireplace where Snape's head had been moments before. Rain pattered harshly against the windows and filled the silence of the room, as deep shadows loomed in the corners, hiding behind furniture form the light of the flames. It almost seemed as if the shadows grew darker and spread further as the red-eyed man's scowl deepened, while the fire shrunk back and trembled in fear at the dark glare.

It was going downward for his little vampire, and he wasn't there to save the situation, to solve the problems and help protecting the young vampire's secrets. The whole situation was becoming far more dangerous and threatening then Voldemort had thought it would be, especially since he'd expected Snape to be able to keep an eye on the boy and keep him in line.

Apparently, that was not the case, even thought one could not blame the potions professor for the latest circumstances that had forced Harry to turn to real blood instead of those potions. The one to blame was clearly the blood traitor Weasley, and it was quite obvious that the old and expired friendship between the two teens was to blame since the stupid ginger would never have been able to hurt Harry if the supposed savior hadn't held some kind of ridiculous feelings for the boy and therefore had hesitated when it came to hurting the other.

Shaking his head and silently cursing the weakness called feelings, he realized he should have known there would be trouble when the newly turned vampire returned to Hogwarts. The boy was simply too careless and trusted others with his secrets far too easily – it was with relief he'd heard Snape report that he, the potions master, didn't know of anyone having found out of Harry's secrets yet, but the young Malfoy seemed to be close enough to be a threat.

It was surprising how quickly the two teens had become close since their previous hatred for one another was well known to the Dark Lord, but the friendship pleased him since it would bind Harry closer to the Dark and would make the boy more inclined to fight for their cause.

A dark smile spread over thin lips, and this time, the flames quite clearly fell back in fear as the dark shadows seemed to thicken behind the Dark wizard.

Of course, why hadn't he thought of that? The present situation was actually quite favorable since Harry's need for blood would bind him to his blood donor, namely Snape. Since he would surely be too embarrassed and scared of the process and effects of feeding, the former Gryffindor was sure to limit himself to one, trusted donor who could keep his secrets, and therefore it was unlikely that he would feed from anyone but Snape. This would further bind the teen to the Dark, and if the circumstances were right, Tom could even take it a step further and offer his own blood to the young vampire. There was no doubt that his blood would be more desirable due to his strong magic, and so he would be able to bind the boy not only to the Dark, but directly to himself.

Well aware of the effects that blood had on a feeding vampire, Voldemort grinned at the thought of having his former archenemy at his mercy, so dependent of him. The thought of seeing the boy flushed and needy because of Tom's blood, of his strength, was a very pleasant thought. It just bothered him that someone else had already had the chance to savor that feeling, but he quickly brushed it aside as there was nothing to worry about since there was no doubt his own blood was more desirable and addictive than that of the potions professor.

Everything was working in his favor, and the boy would be all his before the Light had any chance of figuring out that their escaped savior lived as a Slytherin student just under the twinkling gaze of the Headmaster.

**Just to clear possible misunderstandings – no, Draco doesn't know **_**everything**_**, he doesn't know that Elijah really is Harry, but he **_**thinks**_** he knows everything. ^^**

**And I know I've become awfully late at updating, but school's started again and I'm just too tired to write most of the time :( You'll have to be patient with him as I struggle on ^^ So encourage me to continue - REVIEW! XD**


	19. Chapter 19

**THANKS FOR ALL THE WONDERFUL REVIEWS I GOT FOR CHAPTER 18! XD**

**QUESTION EVERYONE! I've gotten the question if I should bring Harry's sire back into the story, and I honestly don't know. I do have some ideas as to what I could do with him, and it would ****probably only be for a short bit. Still, I want to know what you all (who read this, anyway) think. Should I have something more with him or not? Please answer in the review or send a message! XD**

A pair of strong arms encircled him when he woke up, keeping him closely hugged to a slowly rising and falling chest, a steady heartbeat thumping against his back as warm breath washed down his neck, all of it making him feel comforted and relaxed, safe in the arms of another. He blinked slowly a few times while he lay perfectly still, letting himself enjoy the feeling of closeness instead of promptly freaking out the way he had the other time.

Remembering what had happened the day before, he waited for a merciless wave of guilt, despair and self-hatred to crush him with its unrelenting force, to drown him until he completely went under, unable to glimpse the sparkling of the sun on the surface. He waited… but nothing came. A heavy sort of emptiness seemed to fill his chest, making it feel as if the grey drizzle of the outside world had somehow been fitted into him, resulting in a mild numbness that made him feel emotionally drained.

Why didn't he feel like he should? He knew very well how he _should_ feel, he'd felt like that only the evening before, but now it was all gone. As he lay there, a new though took form in the back of his mind, and he quickly tried to ban it, knowing that it should be forbidden, but it refused to be extinguished.

Maybe, just maybe, he didn't actually feel all that bad. Maybe it could be okay to just accept it the way it was, without regret, disgust or guilt?

Even as he closed his eyes and shook his head in a small, almost nonexistent motion so as not to stir Draco, his mind went along with the thought and started working with surprising efficiency to prove its rightfulness.

It wasn't his fault that he'd been turned into a vampire, because he'd been without his wand when the vampire attacked, and as vampires are superior to human, he naturally stood no chance against it when wandless. As a vampire, it was therefore inevitable that he'd thirst for blood when he'd been bleeding a lot and then had used his energy to heal, and Ron was the one to blame for the fact that he'd been bleeding in the first place. To turn to human blood under the circumstances, when no Blood Replacement potion was to be obtained fast enough, was only to be expected, and there had been nothing wrong with taking the blood that had been willingly offered. The fact that he hadn't stopped feeding when Snape had told him to was also to be expected since it had been the first time feeding for him and the pleasure of the blood had completely thrown him off balance, not to mention the fact that Snape had most likely already known what would happen and therefore had been prepared for it. He hadn't hesitated to use the burning hex to stop Harry, and hadn't seemed agitated when the young vampire had come to, which made the theory all the more likely.

_So why do I blame myself? __Why should I feel bad?_

Harry stubbornly tried to tell himself that he should feel guilt and remorse because what he'd done had been wrong in every way possible, and of course he should feel despair and disgust since it proved that he was nothing but an animal. It didn't help, though, that the vampire in him was highly content, fed and warm as it was, and even in his own mind, the arguments he'd made up seemed weak and pretentious.

It was almost as if he willingly tried to whip up all the negative emotions, creating the bad feelings in order to pain himself.

_Why? _his mind whispered almost seductively, and Harry sighed heavily.

"Good question," he mumbled silently into the darkness of the dorm, but apparently not silently enough as Draco stirred slightly behind him. The Malfoy heir moved around and raised himself up on his arms so that he could look down on Harry, grey eyes gazing inquiringly into blue ones.

"Feeling better?" Draco asked softly, and Harry gave a slight nod before he remembered what the platinum blonde had said the past evening.

"_Don't worry, it's okay, I understand…_" again and again, like a chant whispered into his ear to make things better. Blue eyes widened, uncertainly searching grey ones for a hint to what the other thought, what his reaction was. He was met with quiet calm and sympathy.

"You know?" Harry whispered, nearly inaudible, wanting to confirm that the other teen knew what no one was supposed to find out.

"Yeah," Draco confirmed, nodding but not breaking their eye contact, even as he moved to sit beside Harry, a hand still on his shoulder. "Don't worry, though. In difference to most wizards today, we purebloods prefer to keep ourselves properly educated about the other magical beings who live in our society, so I very well know that you're not some savage animal without humanity."

"I'm not?"

A piercing grey gaze pinned him, and he felt himself wanting to look away from the harshness of it even as he realized he couldn't.

"No," was all Draco said, his voice firm and filled of conviction, making Harry feel as if he'd just been slapped because he'd done something undesired like he so often had been at the Dursley's. Even so, it was a slap that didn't hurt, it actually felt… good. More like someone had grabbed his shoulder and shaken him or emptied a bucket of water over his head in order to make him see reason.

"Thanks." A weak smile touched his lips as he looked up at Draco. The moment seemed to stretch between them, comfort and calm flowing between them thought the skin-to-skin connection that Draco's hand on his shoulder caused.

"Hermione knows too," Harry admitted, feeling as if he was confessing his inability to keep a secret properly, and grey eyes narrowed a bit as the hand on his shoulder tensed.

"How did she find out?"

"I had another fight with Ronald before, and Hermione saved me. The wound was much smaller that time, but she still saw it heal, so… Well, at least she knows that I'm not completely human."

"You trust her not to tell anyone?" Draco asked, his voice dangerously low as he eyed Harry's expression of calm.

"Yeah, she told me she wouldn't tell."

"And you believed that?"

"Duh, she'd a Gryffindor, Draco," Harry said with a slightly teasing smile. "I trust her."

There was silence between them for a moment as Draco looked at him suspiciously, and then he silently asked:"What more do she know?"

Harry hesitated for a moment, tempted to say that that was it, but in the end opting to tell the truth. "She knows I'm on the Dark side."

The Malfoy heir's eyes widened, alarm swirling in their depts. "You told her _that_?" he hissed in disbelief.

"She won't tell, Draco. She said she understands that I don't want to trust the Light with my secret, so she won't tell."

Draco gave him a tired and irritated look, but it was soon replaced by resignation as he rubbed his face, seemingly trying to rub away a building frustration while he quite obviously thought Harry was an idiot who trusted so easily. Tired of laying around, Draco got up and peeked out through the curtains to confirm that everyone was asleep before he pushed the green drapes to the side and got out of the bed, quickly making his over to his own bed to dress and comb his hair.

Deciding that it might be a good idea to get up since they would only be more tired if they decided to go back to sleep, Harry sat up and yawned as he stretched, reaching high above his head and making his back pop nicely. It was early and grey morning light shone in thought a small window high on the wall that Harry suspected was enchanted since he was quite sure the Slytherin rooms were below ground level. Stillness filled the dorm, the green curtains all drawn shut around the other beds and the silence only disturbed by the rustling of Draco's clothes as he dressed.

Crawling over the bed, Harry pushed the curtain out of the way and leaned down over the footboard to open his trunk and dig around in it, searching between green and black robes, casual clothing, sweatpants, underwear, his invisibly cloak, a few schoolbooks that weren't in his shoulder bag, parchment, ink, quills and much, much more, some things surprising him with their presence. Frowning, he realized it wasn't there, and after a moment he groaned loudly and smacked himself on the forehead.

In the rush and shock of what had happened, he'd completely forgotten that he was out of Blood Replacement potion, and even though he wasn't thirsty now, it was still early and there was no telling how he would feel in a few hours. Dragging himself out of bed, he pulled some clothes on and brushed through his blonde hair a few times before putting it up in its usual ponytail. Throwing a quick _tempus_, he realized he had plenty of time before their first class for the day would starts, and so he slung his bag over his shoulder and turned towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Draco asked, sounding slightly put out at being ignored, but there was also a certain amount of suspicion in his voice.

"I need to make more Blood Replacement," Harry answered over his shoulder, not seeing the point in being secretive about it since Draco already knew he was a vampire.

"So that's how you've handled the thirst…" Draco mumbled, enlightenment clear in his voice as the finishing pieces to his puzzle were revealed to him. He quickly walked up to Harry's side and followed him out of the dorm and into the common room, making blue eyes turn to his in question.

"I'm coming with you," the platinum blonde teen answered to the unvoiced question, and Harry opened his mouth to protest before he sighed in resignation and let the other teen come along, not caring enough to put up a fight. After all, it couldn't hurt if Snape and Draco found out of the other knowing, could it?

XXX

Draco had a hard time refraining from grinning like some idiot Gryffindor while they walked thought the corridors of the dungeons. Finally he had Elijah figured out, and now that he knew the secret, the blue-eyed teen seemed to trust him. The big mystery was solved, and being close to Elijah also brought him closer to power, to the Lord. Maybe… maybe he would even be able to bypass his father.

He seldom allowed himself to dream of unrealistic goals, but this time, it actually seemed to be possible. This, however, didn't mean he was allowed to dream for very long, as his smile ran off his face when he realized which door they had stopped by. Before he had any chance to stop the other teen, Elijah had knocked on the door and opened it without awaiting an answer, and he walked into the potions professor's rooms with an air about him that made it clear he was familiar with the surroundings.

The room was empty, but that didn't stop Elijah from walking in and steering towards the fireplace where he put a cauldron over the fire and filled it with water from the tip of his wand. He swiftly proceeded to rummage around after the ingredients he needed, and was soon occupied with preparing them, his movements swift and sure, proving beyond any doubt that this was something he had done many times before.

"Shouldn't we ask permission to be here?" Draco asked, slightly uncomfortable about the fact that they'd just walked into his godfather's room and taken it into possession when he wasn't even around. It was a slight relief that his godfather wasn't present, thought, since he was unsure how the man would react when realizing that Draco now knew the secret he wasn't supposed to care about. However, that didn't stop him form taking a seat in the armchair in front of the fireplace, where he was given a good view of Elijah bustling around.

"Yes you should have, but it would have been of more help if the two of you had realized that earlier," Snape said bitingly, and Draco turned to see the bat-like man standing in the doorway to his bedroom, a dressing grown in black silk loosely wrapped around his tall frame and his shoulder length hair slightly mussed. His appearance didn't lessen the effect of his black glare, thought, as he focused its full power on Draco who shrank back into the cushioned armchair.

"Morning Snape, I didn't mean to wake you," Elijah said, his voice wavering slightly as he gave the man an uncertain smile over his shoulder before he continued with the potion, putting the first ingredients into the bubbling water of the cauldron. He seemed… tense, as if he was uncomfortable in the potions mater's presence, and it made Draco wonder what had happened between the two of them.

"Wake me you did," Snape answered coldly and closed the bedroom door behind himself as he walked a bit further into the room. His dark glare turned to Elijah who still wasn't looking his way, but the mere fact that Draco had been the first target of the glare clearly showed that the professor was used to having the blue-eyed Slytherin in his rooms. The thought was confirmed as he asked: "Prey do tell why Draco is here."

Elijah's shoulders tensed slightly in defense as a hint of uncertainty flickered thought the muddled blue depths, making Draco question which one of them had the highest rank among the Death Eaters.

"He found out," Elijah said quietly, sounding a bit as if he was admitting defeat as he turned back to his brewing, and Snape's glare hardened at the words, a glance of dislike hitting Draco before those black eyes turned back to the vampire.

"How?"

"He found me yesterday after I'd been here," he said quietly, confusing Draco and making him frown. Hadn't Elijah gone directly form the infirmary to the dorm? When had he been with Snape?

To Draco's great surprise, Snape's glare softened a bit and he ran his hand through his hair, a gesture very uncharacteristic to him that made him seem more normal and human than he usually did.

"It must be hard on you since you wanted to live as normally as possible," Snape said quietly. "How are you taking it?"

"Fine, thanks to Draco."

Snape turned to Draco for a moment, and was answered by a confused look. What were they talking about? What was it that had really happened to make Elijah so distraught that even Snape would be worried? Before, Draco had thought it was all caused by the fight with Weasley, but that didn't seem to be the case.

Black eyes turned to the puttering cauldron over the fire and the potions professor scowled slightly before turning to walk over to the bathroom door. "I'm taking a shower, and I do not want my rooms to be burnt down to coal when I get back," he informed them dryly before disappearing behind the door, the sound of pouring water soon audible.

"Elijah, what really happened yesterday?" Draco asked softly, earning a quick glance before Elijah returned to his potion.

"I lost control for the first time," the blonde said quietly after a moment of hesitation. It didn't fully answer his question, but he left it at that, aware that he could get his answers later if they weren't answered. After all, it wouldn't do to estrange Elijah in any way by being to inquisitive now that he had finally earned the other's trust.

The sound of pouring water mixed with the bubbling of the potion and the crackling of the fire, but otherwise silence reigned in the room. After a while, the water in the bathroom was shut off and a few minutes later Snape came out, dressed in his customary black robes, his hair still slightly moist from the shower. Practically at the same time, Elijah finished his potion and scooped up a dose in a vial before he tipped his head back and gulped down the watery contents.

The potion came back up as quickly as it had been downed, spewed into the hissing flames in the fireplace as Elijah coughed and hacked, disgust flittering over his face as Snape simply walked over, conjuring a glass of water that he handed over to the blue-eyed teen. He greedily gulped down the contents that conveniently refilled itself.

"Urg," he voiced in distaste, his face crestfallen as he stared in disbelief at the still bubbling cauldron over the fire where the rest of the potion rested. "Why…?" he asked weakly, sounding as if he didn't know how to voice the question properly.

"A vampire who has once tasted real blood can not ever again be satisfied with having a potion as replacement," Snape said, taking the glass from Elijah's slightly shaking hand and beginning with cleaning up after the brewing. "The reason you find it so disgusting is because the vampire in you compares it to the taste of human blood, which most definitely outrivals the potion by far."

There seemed to be an audible click that everyone in the room should have been able to hear as Draco understood the uncertainty Elijah had been displaying and the breakdown he'd had the previous evening, and he turned wide eyes to his godfather as he understood that the bat-like man must have offered his blood to the vampire. The thought of his godfather sharing such intimacy with his friend was quite disturbing and he felt his cheeks tinge hotly since he knew of the effect blood had on vampires.

"I can't… take the potion… anymore?" Elijah asked hesitantly, and Draco noticed he wasn't the only one staring at the potions master. Shock was swirling in those blue depths and the smaller teen looked as if the very foundations of his life had crumbled under his feet, hurtling him down into the black abyss beneath.

Black eyes locked with blue ones, unrelenting and hard, mercilessly revealing the truth as a single word fell over thin lips.

"No."

XXX

Snape sighed heavily as he let himself collapse into the armchair in a highly undignified way that was entirely unbefitting of him, but he just didn't care as it felt as if he'd been zapped of all energy. With a slightly sloppy swish of his wand that clearly conveyed how tired he was, summoned a Pain Relieving potion for the building ache making itself known in his head.

Gulping down the potion and sighing in contentment as he felt it easing the headache, he gently massaged his temples as he thought over the morning. He hadn't been surprised when he'd realized Harry'd been brewing his Blood Replacement potion, he'd actually expected it to happen since the stubborn teen was far too obstinate to give up on something until he'd tried it, which was why Snape hadn't bothered to tell him that it wouldn't work.

The realization that he'd have to depend on real, human blood had almost made Harry break down again, but luckily Draco had been there to save the situation and somehow, the blonde Malfoy heir had managed to calmed his former enemy. He had also promised Snape that he'd see to it so that "Elijah" came to see him at least twice a week and whenever he showed signs of the blood thirst, which put the potions professor slightly at ease since he'd worried that Harry would be too stubborn and against the idea of drinking human blood to face the fact that he needed it, no matter if he liked it or not.

The fact that he could see benefits with the situation did not, however, in any way guarantee that the Lord would see the same benefits, and therefore there was no way of predicting how he would react to the news that the young vampire's secret had been spilled to a housemate of his, even though said housemate was a follower of the Dark. It was highly probable that the Lord might decide it was a good way to keep the secret a secret through ensuring Draco's loyalty by torture or, more effectively, by killing him.

Rising from the armchair, he threw a glance at the clock and decided he had enough time to eat a quick breakfast before first class, and so he swiftly dressed into his usual black robes and left his rooms, his decision not to report to the Lord firm in his mind.

XXX

Harry yawned, feeling his yaw crack somewhat uncomfortably, and he moved it around a bit to check that it wasn't off its hinges. He felt the effects of their early morning creeping up on him now that the stress had worn off, but Draco didn't seem to be the least bit affected where he sat at the other side of the table, silver eyes locked onto him as the Malfoy heir kept and eye on him to see to it that he didn't have another emotional breakdown or something the like.

It was good that Draco had been there since he seemed to be a natural at calming people whenever he put his mind to it, or maybe it just had something to do with his skills at manipulation. As it was, he'd managed to calm Harry quite quickly, and the little voice of logic from the morning popped into existence again, reminding him that there was no reason for him to feel bad about what he was since he was not to blame.

Still, he didn't like the thought of drinking blood from someone else – it reminded him all too much of when the vampire attacked him and turned him against his will. The humiliation, shame and helplessness he'd suffered where still fresh in his memory, efficiently providing every bit of discomfort he might need. Not to mention the effects of drinking blood…

He felt his face heat in shame at the mere thought of it, and he pushed his bowl with cereals away as Draco raised an impeccable eyebrow in question from the other side of the was saved from the questions as he spotted Hermione making her way over to the table and quickly raised his hand to wave her over. There was relief in her brown eyes and a small smile on her lips as she went over to them, but a line of worry between her brown, betraying that not all was fine.

"Hi Elijah, how are you?" she greeted them, nodding to Draco as she ignored those who were still throwing curious and surprised glances at the Gryffindor by the Slytherin table, but those who stared were a lot fewer now since the cross-house visits had become quite frequent between Harry and Hermione, so they'd simple had to get used to it.

"I'm fine, why?" Harry answered with a slight frown, since he figured it had something to do with her worry.

"Well, I heard about your fight with Ron yesterday – the whole school probably knows," she informed them and Harry groaned. Apparently it didn't help that he was no longer the Boy-Who-Lived in their eyes, he still managed to attract attention weather he wanted it or not.

"Oh, yeah," Harry mumbled sourly. "_That_."

"I just wanted to see if you're alright," Hermione said gently, and for a moment Harry thought she might have forgotten about his abnormal healing.

"No worries, I'm just fine," he said, giving her a slight smile.

"Good!" she said, genuinely happy for his sake, and the reminder that at least one of his old friends cared made his smile widen.

"Hey, Elijah!" the twins chorused as they seemingly popped up out of nowhere, identical grins on their faces as they placed a hand each on Elijah's thin shoulders. There was something it their eyes, a glint more foreboding than ever before, that made Harry raise his brows and smile.

"What have you got cooked now?" he asked suspiciously, and their grins grew impossibly wide, cleaving their freckled faces in half.

"Ron got suspended and sent home."

"Won't be back until the 29th-"

"- so we have ten whole days when we can do whatever we want-"

"- since his bed will be unguarded."

The twins grinned darkly as they rubbed their hands together, only they were rubbing each others hands, making them look like they were melded together.

Harry felt his smile growing and he knew there was a dark glint in his temporarily blue eyes as he let his blue gaze travel between the two twins, and out of the corner of his eye he could see a dark slytherin sneer on Draco's lips as he, too, saw the possibilities behind this. The blonde's mind surely had nothing against the prospect of vengeance, and as Harry glanced over at Hermione, he realized that even she had a hard time looking reproachful.

"You wouldn't happen to have some kind of plan, would you?" Harry asked, his gaze returning to the twins, their malicious intent practically radiating from them.

"Well, a dear friend of our have gotten his hands on some quite large, long-legged, hairy spiders…"

**Okay, so this chapter was pretty much a filler, at least I think so… But it was needed to make clear the BRpotion no longer works and why, and how Harry's dealing with the whole blood-drinking deal. ****So there you have it :) **

**Oh, ****after you've REVIEWED (discreet, aren't I?) and while you're waiting for the next update (like you'd actually walk around waiting, who am I kidding? =,=') you should check out "****Triquetra" by ****Mottlemoth – the writing on that one is like art in itself! And the bed-action… *melts into a drooling puddle on the floor***


	20. Chapter 20

**HERE'****S THE RESULT OF THE LITTLE VOTE WE HAD IN THE LAST CHAPTER! As you all remember (of course you do, don't you? ;P) the question was if you want Harry's sire to pop into the story again or not, and the outcome was:**

**No! 16,5 %**

**Yes! 67%**

**Maybe… 16,5%**

**~ my math teacher would be so proud of me… or he better be, because I'm damn proud of myself! XD (it's 8 in the ****morning; cut me some slack, will ya?) Either way, you can all see the outcome, right? Don't get all depressed if you didn't get what you wanted (or didn't want in this case), there will only be a short part either way. **

**I want to dedicate this chapter to all of you who leave unsigned reviews; even though I can't send you replays, I still want to say THANK YOU! *****hugs* **

The autumn rain was pouring down outside the windows of the classroom, the heavy drops smattering loudly against the windowpanes and trickling down the glass like small waterfalls, creating warped shadows that stretched over the floor of the classroom. Hermione had spelled candles to float over their head, much like in the Great Hall, and their yellow light illuminated the room quite brightly.

Harry sat with his legs crossed on the teacher's desk with the blackboard behind him, his fingers absently playing with his wand, twirling and flipping it in small, meaningless motions and patterns. Hermione stood by his side, leaning against the edge of the desk, a book on magical theory lying beside her which she had studied to prepare for their first "lesson". Harry had no idea why she'd bothered to bring it with her, as she undoubtedly knew it by heart. Under the book lay a parchment with authority looking text at the top.

Before them sat 20 students, the 13 members who'd been present at their first meeting along with seven newcomers, most of them recruited by the Weasley twins and Hermione. Harry's blue eyes swept over the new members, finding familiar faces among them: Angelina Johnsson, Lee Jordan and Lavender Brown were the new members from Gryffindor, Hannah Abbot, Ernie Macmillan and Susan Bones were the new additions from Hufflepuff and from Ravenclaw…

Blue eyes widened a fraction as he recognized the warmly coloured skin, black eyes and equally black hair. He quickly turned away, not wanted to be caught staring, and found himself relieved that Cho Chang couldn't recognize him. After all that had happened to him the past two months, it seemed ridiculous that such a trivial matter as a teenage crush had taken up as much time and energy as it had, especially when he'd had more prominent problems such as dragons and the like to conquer.

"Okay, now that everyone is here I can see that there are a few new members," Hermione said, breaking Harry's chain of thought and making him turn his attention to his female friend. "I would like you all to sign this contract before we start-" She lifted the book and raised the paper for all of them to see. "- so that we can be sure that no one will tell on us. After all, I do not think either Umbridge or the Ministry would be very happy with us if they found out what out hidden motive is," she said, glancing at Harry as she said the last since he was the one most forthcoming with the idea to get rid of the toad.

Harry answered her with an innocent smile, knowing his blue eyes showed the innocence of an angel, before he turned to the others who were reading the contract.

I HEREBY SOLEMNLY SWEAR NOT TO SNITCH

- I will not betray the Defence Group by alerting its enemies of its existence,  
by giving away names of its members or revealing the purpose of the group, directly or indirectly

_Hermione Granger_

_Elijah Spring_

Hermione had wanted "I hereby solemnly swear not to betray the Defence Group by alerting its enemies of its existence, by giving away names of its members or revealing the purpose of the group, directly or indirectly" as the headline with no subtext, but seeing as "I hereby solemnly swear not to snitch" was by far easier to understand, not to mention that her headline was too long, Elijah had managed to convince her that his idea was preferable, and she had grudgingly given in.

"As you can see, I and Elijah have already signed it. As long as you keep the contract, there will be no effects whatsoever, but if you break it…" She paused, letting her hazel eyes sweep over the group of gathered students. "If you break it, you'll be in for an unpleasant surprise."

Elijah smiled darkly as he saw a few of them shift uncomfortably. He and Hermione had put their minds together when spelling the contract, resulting in a mean little hex that would make you temporarily mute and make the worlds SNITCH appear all over your body in bold, black letters. The effects would disappear as soon as you'd changed your mind, but if you ever decided to try to break the contract again, they would return just as before.

"We just have to sign it?" Blaise asked, an eager look in his dark eyes.

"Yes," Hermione confirmed and took up ink and a quill out of her pocket for everyone to use. "Those of you who do not wish to bind yourselves to the contract can leave."

Silence reigned in the room for a moment, the harsh words hanging in the air as the gathered students re-evaluated their decision to come, but then Blaise rose from his chair and walked over, taking the quill and ink from Hermione's hands with a slight smile to the Gryffindor before he dipped the point of the quill into the black ink and signed his own name under _Elijah Spring_ in elegant, slanted script.

Turning, his name safely on the parchment, he cocked a brow at Draco and held out the quill to him, daring the blonde heir to take it. The blonde rose from his chair, the simple motion seemingly holding an impossible amount of grace, and strode over to Blaise to claim the quill, silver eyes meeting brown ones for a moment before he turned over the parchment and signed it.

"My turn!" Fred exclaimed, swiftly sliding up beside Draco to claim the quill.

"No, I'm next!" George argued, making a few of the gathered students chuckle, and a mock fight broke out over who of them would get to sign the contract first. Once they were done, solving their "fight" by writing each other's name with the explanation "Because then one of us will be the first to _sign_ but the other will be the first to be _signed_!" the others had no problem with signing their own names, as seeing the ginger twin's enthusiasm had reassured them and eased the tense moment.

It would probably not have been so easily done if a certain red-head hadn't been missing from the group, Harry suspected, his blue eyes swiping over the students as he hid his private relief that Ron wasn't there.

"Good!" Hermione said, a happy smile on her face as soon as they'd all signed. She quickly picked up the parchment, rolling it up and putting it away as if she was afraid that someone would change his mind and try to erase his name from the contract – which was, of course, made impossible by their joint spells.

"Now that everyone has signed," she continues happily, already in full teacher mode. "We can start with the actual teaching." Her enthusiasm was quite clearly not matched by the others, but a few of her friends were polite enough to nod. "We, Elijah and I, have agreed to start with something relatively easy, but that is very good to know when it comes down to it – _expelliarmus_."

The others stared at her for a moment, silently, as if they expected her to continue. When it became clear that that was it, they glanced at each other, exchanging silent but meaningful looks.

"Don't you think that's a bit too easy?" Lavender Brown asked sceptically.

"Yeah, I mean, will we really have any need for it?" Parvati agreed, and her twin Padma nodded, making Hermione frown in dislike of their attitude.

"Is it too easy?" Harry asked calmly, all eyes turning to him. He was still seated on the teacher's desk, and now he languidly stretched his legs out, smiling innocently as he left them hanging.

"Of course!" Lavender snapped irritably. "Anyone can do it, and it's not like it's going to help us in a real fight!"

"No, of course not!" Harry mocked her, his smile growing dark. There was something oddly satisfying with making fun of her since she was so utterly blown that nothing had been left behind. "After all, it has only saved the life of one Harry Potter a few times by now, so why would we have _any need_ _at all _for it?"

The majority of the students gasped in unison at this, wide eyes staring at him in chock. Silver eyes shot him a look of warning from the small clique of Slytherins, but questions could be seen even in Draco's eyes, flittering past just underneath the surface before they were neatly hidden away from view.

Hermione clapped her hands together, the sharp sound of skin slapping against skin breaking through the oppressive silence, efficiently attracting everyone's attention. "Now, everyone, take out your wands and we will practice the motion, when we all know it I want you to practice in pairs of two…"

The rest of the meeting passed without trouble, as Hermione took mercy on Neville and practiced with him while Harry supervised the others, correcting wand movements and pronunciations. He still received suspicious and nervous glances, but most of the awkwardness tended to ease once they realized he wouldn't hex them from behind.

In the beginning it felt strange to tell people what to do and order them around, but after a while he started enjoying it, feeling a smile spreading over his lips as he told Ernie Macmillan to change his grip on the wand. There was something oddly satisfying with correcting the others, as it confirmed his own knowledge and ability. He knew things that others didn't, he could do things that others couldn't, and now it was locked upon with appreciation instead of being taken for given as he was no longer the Saviour who was _supposed_ to know these things.

He was his own person now, and he liked it.

XXX

Sunday and Monday passed without much of anything happening, except for Draco sending a few dark looks mixed with worry Harry's way, and a verbal reprimand telling him to be more careful unless he wanted to alert Dumbledore of his "true identity" and his siding in the war – not that Draco knew who really was, of course.

The world greeted Tuesday with heavy clouds occupying the sky and sparse rays of sun breaking through to tease the occupants of the earth with its absence, an absence that would have been greatly apprenticed after several days of rain. They were sitting in their Defence class, the last lesson for today, and Harry just wished it would end so that he could go back to the common room and do some homework, or maybe train a bit of wandless magic or practice runes. Anything, and he literally meant _anything_, was better than this, especially since he'd broken his quill last lesson which made it impossible to practice runes as he usually did.

Heaving a heavy sigh, not even caring if the toad heard him, he actually started flipping through their Defence book in search for the chapter they were supposed to read. Since he'd concluded that the book was nothing but bullshit in their first class with Umbridge, he hadn't bothered to read another word of it, but he was so royally bored for the moment that he decided to break the pattern and actually check what the chapter was about.

_Pacify__ the Beast _

Blonde brows rose slowly as he read the title of the chapter, his interest piqued as his eyes wandered on down the page.

_If you are to meet one of the magical beats that sadly exist in our world, you must always have in mind that they are below our human intelligence and therefore react on instincts, like the animals they are. __This is especially important to remember when encountering magical beasts that have once been human but are no longer, since their appearance can in certain cases be misleading. A good example of this are vampires, who were once human but have had the misfortune of being bitten, and so all their humanity and human intelligence have been robbed from them. _

_It is __therefore recommended to somehow pacify a magical beast when encountering one, which is not hard when taken into account that they cannot see past their animalistic needs. A werewolf will easily be distracted by a piece of raw meat and its attention will thereby be averted from you, which leaves you free to either take flight or serve society by containing the beast._

_Since werewolves are only affected by their disease on full moon, many hope to find __a cure that can relieve them of their awful ailment, and any contained werewolves should therefore be brought to the Ministry of Magic for research aimed to find such a cure. _

_Vampires are not as lucky, as their malady is irreversible and permanent, without hope of salvation. Any vampire encountered should therefore be distracted by a small amount of blood, whereas a minimal cut should be sufficient as long as it draws blood, and the beast should then be put to death as quickly and painlessly as possible under the circumstances, as an animal can never be blamed for its lesser existence. _

_It is very unfortunate that dangerous animals such as these have come to exist in our world, but as creatures of higher intelligence we humans must take responsibility and make an effort to ease their suffering by freeing them from their deplorable existence. By doing so, we also stop the malady from spreading in our honourable society…_

The text swam in front of his eyes and he realized that he was breathing heavily, his knuckles white as he gripped the book harshly, pages crumbling under his fingers. He knew that the worlds would have hit home just a week ago, that he would have believed them and been miserable, likely even thought of killing himself to "stop the malady from spreading". But just a few days ago, Draco had firmly told him that he wasn't a savage animal, and he had realized that the blonde heir was right, causing scalding hot rage to burn through his veins as the words of Wilbert Slinkhard went on repeat in his mind.

"Is there something wrong, Mr. Spring?"

Harry looked up as the sugar sweet voice wafted over to him, his angry blue eyes darkening as he locked eyes with the fat, pink toad perching on the chair behind the desk.

"Is this really the view the Ministry represents?" he asked, his voice so quiet it was barely audible yet filled to the brim with anger.

"I do not understand your question, Mr. Spring," she answered sweetly, tilting her head slightly to the side as she smiled as one would have smiled to a toddler. "All the book does is stating facts."

"So you claim that magical creatures are _below human intelligence_ and a _lesser existence_?" he inquired icily, quoting the book with ease since the words were still repeating in his head, over and over again, feeding his anger like dry wood would a fire.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Draco stiffen before his silver eyes started reading the open book before him at furious speed, making it clear that neither he used to read the assigned chapter for the class.

"Yes, Mr. Spring, that would be correct. I hear you have understood the main contents of the chapter," Umbridge said lightly, _praising_ him. The fact that she agreed to what was said in the book, that the _Ministry_ agreed with it, only served to make him even more furious.

He needed an outlet, _something_ to ease his rage or he didn't know what he'd do. Seeing as the printed words in front of him were the original cause for the violent anger that made his whole body shake, he directed all of his anger towards the book and watched with dark satisfaction as the paper blackened around his fingers, small orange flames soon erupting from the carbonizing parchment.

Letting go of the book so as not to burn himself, he watched it fall down onto the bench, flames spreading rapidly over the pages, growing in strength and speed. Draco, who sat beside him, moved back from the flames, pulling his own copy of the book away to save it form the hungry fire. The whole class was staring, Harry realized, and he concluded that it shouldn't surprise him – it wasn't everyday a student burned his book in class, right in front of the teacher and with wandless magic no less.

"_Aguamenti!_" Umbridge exclaimed aghast, her short wand pointing at Harry's book and wetting it with a yet of water, effectively douching the front of his black and green robes in the process. Letting his wand slip into his hand from up the arm of the robe, he waved it lazily over his robes, drying them with magic. Complete silence reigned in the classroom, the very air seemingly tense and heavy with surprise boarding at shock.

"Mr. Spring!" Umbridge said with barely contained anger. "Fifteen points from Slytherin! What do you think you are _doing_?"

Blue eyes rose slowly, going past the smoking, black remains of his book before meeting her angry gaze. His little display of magic hadn't taken much of an effort, but it had been enough to take the edge of his rage and he found himself master of his emotions, enabling him to show nothing but calm as he rose from his seat and straightened, managing to look down on the pink toad even thought there were only a few centimetres between their heights.

"I needed to find an outlet for my anger or I might have lost control of my magic," he stated honestly, hearing a few of the students gasp.

"Only the uneducated lose control of their magic, Mr. Spring, and surely you shouldn't be counted as such after four years at Hogwarts," the toad answered condescendingly, quite clearly thinking he was as uneducated as could be.

"It depends on how strong your magic is, the stronger the harder to control when upset, thought I don't expect you to have any insight in such matters," Harry answered coldly, no longer caring that the woman in front of him was a professor but very much _needing_ to make it clear what he thought of her.

"You do not use that tone to me, Mr. Spring!" she spat angrily in response, unable to maintain her false calm. "Five points from Slytherin and detention tonight at seven!" she exclaimed, a hint of triumph in her voice.

Harry's eyes narrowed but his smile spread, silently challenging the toad. Without another word, he grabbed his shoulder bag, slung it over his shoulder and turned towards the door, leaving the wet ashen remains on his desk.

"Where do you think you are going, Mr. Spring? The class has yet to end," Umbridge said with sickening sweetness.

"I can see no point in attending a class where we do nothing but read the lies of a pathetic man," Harry answered coldly, and whatever answer Umbridge might have had to that was cut off as he closed the door behind himself, priding himself with his control as he managed to not slam it shut.

XXX

Harry sighed as he stopped outside of Umbridge's office door, Draco's warnings about being careful and not being found out still echoing in his head as he raised his hand and rapped his knuckles against the wooden door. He was answered with a sugar-sweet "Come on in" and stepped into the office he'd visited so many times before when occupied by previous teachers, but the sight presented to him nearly made him back out again.

Pink and purple lace covered everything, and everywhere there were vases with dried flowers. Ornamental plates covered one of the walls, brightly coloured kittens with pink ribbons around their necks mewling as they jumped about.

"Good evening, Mr. Spring."

Harry startled out of his shocked daze and forcefully turned away to look at the toad who was camouflaged with her clothes matching the colouring of the room perfectly.

"Evening," he answered, under no circumstances ready to call it a _good_ evening while he found himself wishing they'd had Lockman back since he was preferable as a teacher.

"Please do sit down, Mr. Spring," she said sweetly and gestured to a small, round table with a purple tablecloth over, a parchment waiting innocently for him. He leisurely walked over and sat down, not hurrying in the least as he made himself comfortable.

"Good," Umbridge said and went back to her desk to pick up a narrow, black quill that seemed to be slightly sharper then normal, as if it was designed to cut through paper instead of writing on it. There was something about it, something that made him feel uneasy, and he felt his nose twitch slightly as he caught the smell of… blood.

"You will be using this rather special quill of mine," the toad said as she handed it over to him. "And I want to you write _I must not question the truth_ as many times as needed until it sticks."

Wondering slightly about the comment of how many times he had to write the line, watched Umbridge return to her desk before he turned to the parchment and put the tip to the paper, deciding that ink wasn't needed since the toad hadn't given him any. Writing the line _I must not question the truth_, he had to bite back a gasp of pain that wanted to make itself known, the words on the parchment red and smelling of blood that made his nose itch and his head swirl, even as the same line appeared on the back of his hand, carved into the skin as if by a scalpel, though Harry knew it was the work of the quill.

But as he watched the gleaming red text crossing the back of his hand, the skin knitted itself back together until nothing of the wound remained. He stared at his healed hand in shock, before quickly snatching it from the tabletop to hide it in his lap. What if Umbridge saw his unnatural healing? What would she think? What would she _do_? Nothing good would come out of it, that was for sure, not with her and the Ministry's view of magical creatures. And if they managed to conclude that he was actually as vampire…

… _and the beast should then be put to death…_

"Anything the matter, Mr. Spring?" Umbridge asked silkily.

"Nothing," he croaked, feeling himself pale as he leaned slightly forward to further conceal his hand. Taking a new grip on the quill, he locked his yaw shut to stop any sounds from escaping him and continued writing, line after line of blood drying into the paper and slicing into his hand, only to heal before the text would appear again. The pain wasn't what made his breathing quick and short as the pains he'd endured when suffering from blood thirst were a lot worse, not to mention that they made him want to slit his throat open.

No, what affected him the most was the _smell_. Each time he wrote _I must not question the truth_ a small amount of blood would be applied to the parchment along with the blood on the wedge of dripping from his hand, and the sticky, sweet smell would grow stronger, making his head swim with animalistic longing while his back stiffened with his efforts to keep from doing anything stupid that would give him away.

"Let me see your hand, Mr. Spring," Umbridge said sweetly after half an hour, and Harry felt himself stiffen all over, his hazy mind going blank in panic. He couldn't see his hand where it lay on his lap under the table, effectively hidden by the tablecloth, but he could feel that it had healed since the cutting pain had ceased, no doubt taking the cut itself with it.

But what could he do? He couldn't refuse to show her his hand since that, if anything, would make her suspicious, and he hadn't been taught how to make glamours, especially not to cast them wandlessly and wordlessly so that the toad wouldn't notice it. Dreading the outcome and hoping against reason that he wouldn't be killed on the spot for his healed hand, he slowly raised it and held it up for her to see, ready to let his wand slip down into his other hand if needed.

Chubby fingers roughly grabbed his hand, clearly aiming to bring pain to an injured person, and protruding eyes fell onto his captured hand. They immediately widened and seemed to bulge even more before narrowing, turning to an angry glare.

"Continue," she hissed, let go of his hand and walked back to her desk with angry steps.

Harry stared after her in shock, his hand still held in the air where she'd left it, forgotten as he blinked in surprise. It was somehow anticlimactic that nothing had happened, since he'd half expected to be murdered, and all she'd done was to… to tell him to go on?

Deciding to not to test his luck, he turned back to the parchment and continued writing, and so the night went on with the mewling of the kittens filling the room. The smell of blood increased with each scribbled line, and Harry bit his teeth together as his mind grew more and more hazed, his ability to focus slipping. Umbridge asked to see his hand several times, his heart stopping in his chest each time her scowl darkened at the sight of perfectly healed skin.

When she finally gave up and hissed that he could leave, it was completely dark outside and the school was deserted, his wristwatch revealing that it was well past midnight. Detention had started at seven; that was at least five hours straight, five hours of practically self-inflicted pain while he'd had to stave the building urge to give into the alluring smell of blood. His restraint was wavering and he felt himself growing dizzy, even thought his mind had cleared a bit as soon as the door to Umbridge's office had closed with the smell of blood on the other side of the hard wood.

Taking deep breaths of the relatively clear air of a corridor a good amount of distance between him and the toad, Harry leaned back against the stone wall and just breathed, trying to clear his head further and rid himself of the unrest swirling in his chest. Closing his eyes, he forcefully concentrated his thoughts on something, _anything_, but blood, pushing back the building desire.

"Spring," a snarky voice broke into his closed-off world and blue eyes snapped open to take in the dark appearance of his head-of-house.

"Ten points from Slytherin for wandering the corridors after curfew," Snape continued before he'd had a chance to explain himself. "Follow me."

"I was just-" Harry began, meaning to say that he was on his way back from detention, but a dark look cut him off and he had no other choice but to follow the bat-like man down into the dungeons and into the now very familiar office of his.

"Sit," the potions master ordered just as Harry opened his mouth to explain, and he obeyed with a resigned sigh, dumping his weight into the armchair the Snape had gestured towards. To his surprise, the professor came up to stand before him, swiping stripy black hair out of the way and leaning his head to the side.

His breath hitched at the view of the bared neck presented to him, and he gulped convulsively as he back further into the armchair, putting as much distance between them a possible. But even thought he did his best to ignore it, the burning need welled up again unbidden, making his breathing ragged as he tried to calm himself, unfortunately taking in more of the smell of chemicals and potions that was Snape.

"What are you doing?" he rasped, feeling himself go dizzy again.

"You are obviously agitated and in need," Snape stated, businesslike and factual, giving him a harsh look that allowed no arguing. "It was pure luck that kept someone else on patrol from finding you." To Harry's shock, there was a note of concern in the voice of the usually emotionless man.

Blue eyes were glued to the pale neck before him even as Harry tried to rip his gaze away. "It's not like I'm thirsty or anything," he managed, unwilling to give in while the vampire part of his mind urged him on, as if the vampire in him had materialized and was reaching out to put its teeth in that pale, arched neck, the wonderful, sweet blood flowing just underneath…

"Would you prefer to wait and risk attacking some innocent student when you get tired and loose control?" Snape asked tartly, and Harry felt his back stiffen at the though.

"I would never-"

"Can you really be sure of that? Can you guarantee that you won't loose control under any circumstances?"

Black met blue as they stared at each other, and Harry felt his certainty flicker like a dying flame, something those ever observant eyes immediately picked up on.

"Drink."

Eyeing the volunteered neck wearily, he slowly leaned forward, his face burning with embarrassment. The memory of what effect the blood had had on him last time he'd fed suddenly made itself reminded, and his aversion against the idea of feeding yet another time instantly doubled, but a cool hand with long fingers was put against his neck just as he was about to reel back, effectively keeping him in place and pressing him a bit closer.

An involuntary whine escaped him, the animalistic behaviour shining through as his resistance weakened and he grew more tired, the long day with the many taxing hours of pain making themselves known. A nip in the neck was the only answer he got and he found himself giving in, yielding like a pack member would to his alpha with the difference that neither he nor Snape was a werewolf.

Giving the offered neck a light sniff, he found his instincts taking over and he leaned in, noosing over the craned neck to find the right place. A tongue he didn't seem to have any conscious control over poked out and lapped at the skin, wetting the right spot before he bared his teeth. The next few minutes consisted of nothing by lightheaded delight and pleasure shooting through his veins like scalding hot fire. He distantly heard moans and needy gasps fill the room, but neither registered them nor connected them to himself.

As the need faded into nothing but contentment, his conscious mind regained command and he disconnected himself from Snape with a gasp, shocked at how easily he'd given into his animalistic needs. Unconsciously licking his lips for the last drops of blood that had escaped, his blue eyes soberly searched the potions master's face, finding him even paler than normal, but he looked otherwise calm and collected. There was no pain, no fright, no humiliation, and the realization made Harry relax slightly, the knowledge that he hadn't violated the man soothing him and putting him more at ease with their arrangement of feeding.

When his mind was freed from the task of gauging Snape's reaction, it had time to asset how he felt himself, and he realized that he felt really good, his need sated and his limbs leaden, his body humming with…

Harry's face lit up with shame as he realized he was badly aroused, and Snape had luckily already stepped aside so he wasn't knocked down when the temporarily blonde teen shot up from the armchair, his eyes wide and his face red as a tomato.

"I-," he began, but he had no idea of what to say. "I- It's…" Blue eyes flickered around the room, searching for an escape, a way to make the sturdy stones under his feet swallow him whole. He was desperate to get away, away from those knowing black eyes that saw right through him and _knew_. To react like this to the feeding was bad enough, but that someone else knew only made it ten times worse.

In the end, a hushed "Sorry" escaped him before he made a mad dash for the door and took flight down the corridor towards the relative safety of the Slytherin rooms.

XXX

Draco had planned to wait up for Elijah, and therefore seated himself in one of the comfortable green armchairs with a fairly interesting potions text to entertain himself with after the others had left for bed. The clock ticked by, the lights dying one by one and leaving the common room in dusk, silver eyes slipping shut as eyelids grew heavier and all interest in the text resting in his lap was lost.

When the secret entrance finally opened, Draco awoke from his slumber with a jolt, his head shooting up just in time to see Elijah sprint through the room, flustered and with a hint of desperation in those innocently blue eyes. It was not the look he'd expected his dorm mate to return from detention with, Draco concluded as he heard a door being slammed, most likely the one leading to the showers. His guess was confirmed when the distant sound of running water reached him.

Slowly sinking back into the comfort of the armchair, Draco stared unseeing into the wall across the room as he remembered the flustered look on Elijah's face and felt a slight jolt in his body, a jolt he very much recognized as his first sign of…

A grin spread across his lips, and he swiftly rose from the chair, catching the text in midair on its descend towards the floor before he strolled towards the dorm, the smile never leaving his face. He'd known right from the beginning that there was something about Elijah that was alluring, something that picked his interest and made him want to find out all of his secrets. At first, he hadn't really understood it, simply regarded it as the common curiosity of wanting to solve a puzzle to see the full picture.

Now he knew.

**Wo****ho! 20 chapters! XD *dances happy-happy dance* **

**Sadly, it will take a while for me to come up with the next chapter :( I know what's gonna happen and everything (pretty much…) but I'll go to Spain with my school since I study Spanish, so I'll be gone for a week. When I get back, I'll be dead and I'll have to resurrect myself to get through the national English tests we have directly after… so, maybe 5 or 6 weeks until the next chapter? Just so you know… D':**

**I'm looking forward to all the wonderful reviews that will be waiting for me in my inbox when I get home – because they will, won't they? (^, ~)**


	21. Chapter 21

**Sorry! I couldn't answer your reviews, even though I wanted to, because the link was apparently outdated due to my stay in Spain denying me access to any computer at all, even less my email. So sorry that I haven't answered any of you, but I have read them**** all! THANKS! I had 76 emails when I got home, pretty much all of them from FFN! XD**

The rain was thrumming against the high window in a fast and steady rhythm, created by hundreds of droplets that fell from the heavy clouds in the sky. The library lay quiet, lit by candles that were spread over tables and shelves or perching in sockets along the walls, a few hanging from the ceiling in chandeliers. Still, a persistent gloom seemed to linger, caused by the seemingly never-ending rain that swept the outside world in grey.

Harry sat in the deep windowsill, the stone hard and cool against his back and ass, but not cold enough to bother him, his blonde hair gathered in the blue ribbon and spilling down over one shoulder, given a golden shine in the light from the candles. A parchment rested in his lap, loosely held in his open hand, candlelight illuminating the now familiar scrawl of the Dark Lord.

_24__ September _

_Elijah, _

_It is with much sorrow I read that you are having trouble in school, and I hope this experience will not darken your memories of Hogwarts, since they otherwise seem to be quite happy. Do not think too much of it, see it as something in the past, and remember that I stand behind you regarding equality between species. _

_My advice in the question of the new Defence teacher is that you try not to involve yourself with the woman any further than absolutely necessarily. Do not, under any circumstance, give her any opportunity to give you detention, and to accomplish this you should avoid drawing attention to yourself; do not argue with her, follow her instructions and do not anger her. As long as you manage to evade her detentions, no further harm should be done. _

_As for the mentioned quill, it is most certainly a Blood quill, __an instrument often used in the ages when beatings were a common element of education. Its meaning was, and still is, to literary carve a message into the flesh of the user, a message that is meant to be impossible to remove and that therefore shall follow that victim throughout life, making it impossible to forget. I can imagine that the message should be something humiliating, or something that would make it appear as thought the victim would be the one in the wrong. _

_It is only normal that the message heals again after the first few times it's carved in, but after a full session it would normally leave a scar, meant to last for life. Hopefully, we can pass it off as if the quill just doesn't have as strong an effect on you as on others, everything is possible when it comes to magic, after all, but if you go through another session without the quill leaving a scar, she won't look past it as coincident. If another detention is to be handed to you, I want you to go to your Head-of-House immediately and explain the situation. _

_I hope the situation will be solved for the better, and that no harm has come to you. If anything ever happens, do not hesitate to contact me. _

_Tom _

It was quite simple and informative, answering all the questions he'd asked in the letter he'd sent off the previous night, yet far more direct and open then the other letters had been, not bothering to hide what they were talking about. What stood out most was the presentation of feelings that the black ink handed him, as the wording of the Dark Lord made it clear that he cared – or at least wanted Harry to think that he did.

It felt good to hade someone who knew of your problems and could support you, especially when that someone was as powerful and knowledgeable as the Dark Lord. Reading the letter gave Harry the feeling that everything was safe, as if there was nothing to worry about as long as he stayed in line and didn't provoke the pink toad. Of course, he knew it wasn't really that simple, but it felt good nonetheless.

"Elijah!"

The sudden exclamation of his name nearly made Harry fall down from his perch in the window, only saving himself in the last moment by steadying himself with a hand against the wall.

"Shit!" he cursed, turning around to look at Hermione who stood by his side, face flushed and eyes wide. "Make me fall down and break my neck, why don't you?"

"Oh, sorry!" she said, a bit too quickly, and looked down on her hands, fingers fiddling with the sleeves of her robes. She looked as if she badly wanted to ask something, but at the same time didn't dare, as if she didn't know if asking would be her doom or her salvation. It wasn't a look he'd ever seen on her before, as she usually tended to simply come out with her questions, always striving for new knowledge.

"Sorry for shouting, I was just a bit startled," Harry excused himself as he leaned back and made himself comfortable again, discreetly letting the letter from Tom slip into a pocket. "What is it you want to ask?"

Her head snapped up and she stared at him, her lips slightly parted in surprise as if she couldn't understand how he'd known that she had some question for him. Then she gulped and made a big show of looking around to make sure that they were alone, which they quite clearly were since there weren't many students that went to the library between classes. Harry watcher with some amusement as she leaned in, behaving as if she was about to reveal some great conspiracy to him.

"You're a vampire, aren't you?"

Harry felt himself still, his mind going blank as he stared past her, his blue gaze trained on the bookshelf a few metres away. Blue eyes slowly wandered to the side, meeting worried brown ones as Hermione fidgeted under his sharp stare, all innocence gone.

"How did you figure it out?" he asked quietly.

"Well, I already knew that you're a…" A quick look around, a nervous flicker of brown eyes before she continued. "… a magical creature of some kind, so I researched a bit, and a few things hinted that you might be a vampire, such as the quick healing and the craving for human closeness, but other than that, nothing seemed to fit. They always stressed that vampires are mindless animals, merciless in their hunt for blood, but you're nothing like that!"

Her brown eyes had gained a bit of determination as she said it, her back straight as she frowned in dislike, and Harry felt a bit of gratitude leaking into his blue gaze.

"But then I heard about the fight you had with professor Umbridge yesterday, and since the chapter mainly talked about vampires and werewolves, I thought it likely that you're either of them, especially since I'd already suspected that you're a vampire," Hermione continued her reasoning, her eyes sparkling and clearly showing how much she loved research.

"You're right," Harry said calmly, a slight smile on his lips. It felt somewhat good that she knew, that both she and Draco knew just as much about him, since he wouldn't have to guard his words the same way around the two of them. Having Draco know but not Hermione had felt a bit strange, since Hermione was no doubt the eldest friend, even thought he was the only one aware of that. "The books we have here at school aren't reliable, though."

Slipping down from his perch in the window he came to stand beside her and threw a quick glance at his wrist watch that showed eight minutes to ten, meaning he would be late for potions if he didn't go now.

"You can borrow a book from my uncle where the facts actually are correct," he said with a slight smile, and her brown eyes immediately shone up in with excitement at the prospect of learning.

XXX

Picking up the ingredients needed for the potion assigned for the day, Draco turned to walk back to the table he shared with Elijah, the other blonde sitting back comfortably with his legs stretched out as he read through the description and recipe in their potions book. There was a small frown of concentration as he worked his way through the undeniably complicated text. Those innocent eyes that seemed to be oblivious of what happened around him swept across the pages, effectively hiding the real Elijah resting under the dull surface, seeing and registering everything. The Malfoy heir found himself wanting to see Elijah's true self shine through those innocent blues, see what they would look like when the dull slipover was gone and only clearness remained, much like when his friend got angry and the danger inside was revealed.

Thinking back on the few times when Elijah had allowed his inner danger to shine through, Draco felt a thrill go down his spine, a light coming into life in his starlight eyes, so slight that it would be hard to make out even if you looked for it. Sitting down beside the object of his thoughts, he had to stop himself so that he didn't move to sit closer than what would be seen as normal, his eyes drifting off to glance at nimble hands as they worked on the ingredients, blue eyes that swept over the pages in the book to check something and blonde hair that had made it its goal in life to escape that blue ribbon holding it together. How he wanted to reach out and stroke that hair, feel its smoothness like he'd done when combing the other's hair all those weeks ago – really, it wasn't that long ago, but it felt like an eternity had passed all the same.

Saying something about getting more horklumps to make the potion more potent, Elijah rose from his seat and went over to the table at the front of the room where all the ingredients were sorted and laid out. Something with the way he walked caught Draco's attention, how he seemed to be in complete control of his body and moved with confident strides. Still, Draco had seen him sometimes when he'd paused, surprise flittering through blue eyes as if the blonde had been taken aback by his own length. Maybe he'd undergone a sudden growth spurt recently, causing him to have to slowly come to terms with a few extra centimetres?

Poking the fire under the cauldron to make it the right temperature for the potion, Draco watched discreetly out of the corner of his eye as Elijah came to a stop beside their potions professor, easily asking the usually snarky man something that probably had to do with the addition the blonde wanted to do to the potion. Seeing Snape give a slight nod and some kind of advice, the young heir felt the slight thrill run down his spine again. Not many could simply walk up to the bat-like man and engage him in conversation, not to mention actually holding their own in a conversation regarding potions. Then again, Elijah probably had a lot of experience talking with those superior to himself since he was close to the Dark Lord.

Hiding away the smile that wanted to claim his lips, Draco turned his full attention to the potion, mixing together the first few ingredients with care. Hearing Elijah return, he glanced up at his brewing partner and received a slight smile in return. Working diligently on the potion is silence, Draco soon found his thoughts straying away from anything potions related to something far more interesting.

He found himself wondering how the blonde would react to more intimate touches, well aware of how vampires craved the warmth and contact of human closeness. Would he be able to make the defences fall, to get in under the mask of dullness? Would he be able to find the real thing, the true personality of Elijah that was now hidden away from the world?

And if he managed to bring out the true self of Elijah, would the animalistic and wild side of the vampire surface as well? Would it allow itself to be tamed, dominated, or would it fight for control? Just the thought of meeting the wild, uncontrolled vampire that resided in Elijah, heavily guarded and restricted, gave life to a third thrill, and Draco didn't even bother to deny that he was attracted to the danger that Elijah presented. That, along with the mighty pull of power, made him almost irresistible.

Once again turning his attention to the potion they were working with, the Malfoy heir let a small smile claim his lips. For now, he would store away the newly detected lust he felt of Elijah, but as soon as the right moment was presented he would take it without hesitation.

XXX

Harry corked the vial and got up from the table he shared with Draco to hand in the result of today's brewing. He knew it was perfect from the colouring, the smell and its texture, which brought a slight smile to his lips. A few months ago, such things would have meant nothing to him, but now that he actually knew how to brew potions, it brought a sense of fulfilment and accomplishment each time he finished a correctly brewed potion.

"Hey, I need to go to the dorm and get a book after class, so I guess I'll see you at lunch?" he said as he returned to the desk, the others sitting closely around. Plopping down into his seat, he started packing his books into his shoulder bag since the class would end in a couple of minutes.

"Sure, I'll go with you," Draco said offhandedly, and a moment later the bell rang to mark the end of class. Waving to the others as they followed the mainstream to the Great Hall, Harry and Draco turned and followed the labyrinth of corridors that filled the dungeons until they reached the hidden entrance to the Slytherin common room, and they were quickly granted entrance as Draco spoke the password; _Parseltongue_. Harry had made it a habit never to speak the password if he wasn't alone, since there was a risk he might actually utter it in parseltongue, and that would cause more questions and suspicions than he had energy to handle.

The common room was empty as they walked through it, as was the dorm, and Draco made himself comfortable on the edge of his bed as Harry kneeled by his trunk in search for _True Vampirism_.

"What are you looking for?" Draco asked after a few minutes of Harry digging around between clothes, books and Merlin only knew what else.

Glancing up at his friend, he found the blonde heir sitting with one ankle resting on the other knee, leaning back and propping himself up with his arms so that he was half-laying, half-sitting as the silver-coloured eyes watched him with a contradictive mix of boredom and interest.

"It's a book about vampires," he answered quietly as he bent back over the trunk. "_True Vampirism_, it's called. Hermione figured out what I am, but she only had the school books as sources, so I thought- _Aha_!" Sitting back up, he held up the book over his head to show his triumph over the mess in his trunk that greedily tried to keep his things for itself by hiding them.

"She found out?" Draco exclaimed in disbelief, dislike clear in silver eyes and tone as he stared at the blonde sitting on the floor, blue eyes blinking rapidly.

"Uhm… Yeah? It's not really a surprise, she's the smartest witch around after all, and she already knew that I'm a magical creature of some kind," Harry pointed out, unable to see what upset the other so. Maybe the blonde had felt somewhat privileged to be the only one at Hogwarts to know?

"But what if she tells Dumbledore?" Draco hissed, clearly upset by his lack of reaction.

"So what?" Harry shrugged and got up, steering out of the dorm with an agitated Draco at his heels. "Firstly, she promised not to tell anyone, and secondly I'm quite sure it wouldn't matter all that much." Silencing the blonde by his side with a look to prevent him from protesting, Harry continued. "Remember Remus Lupin who taught Defence a couple of years ago, who turned out to be a werewolf? The old man knew about it already when the man went to school, and instead of shunning him or leaving him to the Ministry, Dumbledore _helped him_. That old man is all for second chances and goodwill, you know."

"How can you put your faith in that when you don't even believe in him?" Draco asked, clearly having picked up on the scepticism in Harry's tone.

"I don't believe in him anymore," Harry agreed, not noticing the look Draco gave him when he intoned that he had once believed in the man. "But I do trust him to keep true to his words, as his heart is that of a Gryffindor."

XXX

The Great Hall was just as busy as usual during lunch hour, the chatter of students and the clinking of cutlery filling the hall and bleeding out through the doors into the Entrance Hall. Waving off Draco who walked over to their friends at the Slytherin table, Harry made his way over to the red Gryffindor table. By now, no one was really surprised to see him walk over to his bushy haired friend since it happened several times a week, but a few who despised Slytherins still threw him dark looks which he unfazed answered with bright smiles.

"Hey, Hermione!" he greeted the witch. She turned to him with a smile, abandoning the discussion she'd had with Ginny and moved a bit to the side to give him room.

"Oh, don't worry about it, I'm just here to give you the book we were talking about," Harry said quickly, giving her a pointed look, and her eyes immediately shone up.

"Oh, thank you so much!" she exclaimed happily as she took the book he handed her, eager hands opening it and brown eyes already skimming the introduction. "This is sure to be an interesting read," she mumbled after the first few lines, and Harry smiled.

"Oy, Elijah!" the twins chorused from further down the table, waving frantically to gain his attention and tipping over a jug of pumpkin juice in the progress, the mess quickly spelled clean by Angelina Johnsson. Smiling, Harry strolled over to them, his blonde brows raised in silent question. They quickly waved him closer, and slung one arm each over his shoulders, pulling him down and creating a sort of secretive half circle.

"We-"

"- just like the rest of the school-"

"- have heard of your fight with the pink toad," they began, and Harry rolled his eyes. Really, the-Boy-Who-Lived or not, the gossip still spread with lightning speed in this school.

"Since we need a bit of help with testing a little something we've developed-"

"- we thought you might be willing to help us, since it would benefit you as well."

"How would it benefit me?" Harry asked, rightfully suspicious against anything that the two mischievous twins had come up with.

"There's these pills that will make you temporarily ill," George started seriously, but the seriousness was demolished by the glint in his eyes.

"Eat one half of the pill and you will be ill, then eat the other part and you will be as good as new!"

"If they work, that is…"

Blue eyes flickered between them, slightly narrowed in thought. It sounded pretty good, but then again, it was something under development, so the side affects were unknown. On the other hand, he was a vampire, so it was pretty safe to believe that the effect of the pills would be lighter on him than on anyone else. Not to mention that it would enable him to skip future classes with the toad, and by doing that he didn't have to risk getting a new detention.

"How ill would I become?"

The twins shone up, ginning happily. "There's Fainting Fancies, Fever Fudge, Nosebleed Nougat and Puking Pastilles," Fred said, ticking them off on his fingers.

"The problem with Fainting Fancies is that you'll need someone else to give you the pill once you're out, but then you'll be just fine again!"

"Then there's the Puking Pastilles; since they make you puke pretty much constantly, it will be hard to swallow down the second half."

"And the Nosebleed Nougat... Well, we haven't figured out a way to stop the bleeding yet."

"But we can guarantee that you won't be able to go to class!"

Feeling a smile spread on his lips, Harry gave a slow nod. "I've got Defence after lunch tomorrow, so how about a demonstration of the pills in the Great Hall, where all the students can see?"

**This is a short chapter, ****I know (the second shortest so far =,='), and there isn't much happening in this one either, but it was the most natural place to break it off, and if I would have continued, I'm not sure how long this chapter would have been or when it would be finished. **

**In the next chapter, there's gonna be some _real_ action ;P**

**Anyway~ REVIEW and make me happy! XD**


	22. Chapter 22

**Okay, so ****I went back and changed a few things in the end of last chapter, where the twins talk about the troubles with their pills, because I looked it up a bit in the book (yes, I'm sitting with my HP5 beside me, looking stuff up in it as if it was an encyclopaedia) and realized that I'd gotten a few things wrong. Now it's corrected! **

**And… WARNING! There'll be some **_**not-so-innocent-stuff**_** in this chapter, so now you know, and if you don't want to read it, don't. I really don't think the warning is needed, though – this is what you've been waiting for the last 21 chapters, right? (^,~) Well, can't be cautious enough :)**

Walking into the Great Hall at lunch the following day, Harry wore a smile of excitement as he thought of the test with the twins' pills he was about to do. He knew something could go horribly wrong since they weren't properly tested, especially since the vampire in him could react in some unexpected way, but still the Gryffindor side of him rejoiced at the chance to do something reckless. As he walked through the doors, dirt under his nails from their class in Herbology and Draco by his side, both of them slightly tousled after a vicious fight with an unruly plant, they brushed past the ginger twins.

"Hey there, Elijah!" they greeted happily, and Harry felt a hand briefly visiting his pocket before withdrawing, leaving something small and light it its wake. Smiling at them he innocently waved them off as they left, pretending he hadn't noticed anything while he and Draco continued on to the green Slytherin table. Once seated, Harry emptied his pocket to find a miniature flask containing a pill with two colours, one side white and the other brightly red, and a folded note.

_This is a pill of __Fainting Fancies. It is the so far safest product.  
__Eat the white side and you'll faint. Have Malfoy or someone else  
__feed you the red side once you're in your dorm, and you __should __be fine again.  
__Remember to tell us about eventual side effects!_

_Good luck! /Gred and Forge _

"What's that?" Draco asked from where he sat beside Harry, silver eyes focused on his hands where he was busy spelling his nails clean of dirt.

"To skip Defence," Harry said quietly and handed the note over, a frown pulling pale brows together as he read.

"_Should_?" Draco stressed skeptically, a look of utter distrust on his face as he gave the note back and eyed the contained pill with suspicion.

"They're in the middle of testing their products, so it's still a bit unsure what the side affects might be," he shrugged as answer and took a grilled rib from a nearby platter.

"And you're willing to take that risk?"

Harry gave him a blank stare and a short but concise nod. "I would go quite far to avoid the pink toad," he said gravely before quickly turning to his food, all seriousness completely gone. "Come on, we need to be quick so that we can try it before all of the others have left."

Draco stared at him for a moment, obviously wondering how the hell he'd been dragged into this, before he turned to his own food with a resigned sigh. They both ate silently and rather quickly, drawing wondering glances from their friends, and Draco told them in a hused voice what they were going to do. Blaise was quick to offer his help and Teo nodded enthusiastically, but for some reason Pansy sternly told them to let Draco and Elijah handle it on their own, a slight spark in her eyes that told of some kind of ulterior motive.

Seeing that students were starting to spill out of the hall, Harry discreetly bit off the white half of the pill and swallowed it down with some pumpkin juice, feeling Draco's gaze as the other watched him for any signs of the possibly bad side effects. To make it look as realistic as possible so that it wouldn't be obvious that he was expecting to pass out any second, Harry pierced a bit of the roasted potatoes and lifted it to his mouth.

The faces of Pansy and Teo suddenly became blurry as if he needed his glasses again, and then they swam together as the world dissolved into fleeting colours. He distantly heard the fork clatter to the plate as he dropped it, and then the world swirled before all was gone.

XXX

Lowering the unconscious blonde onto his bed, Draco broke the levitation spell and sighed. The blonde on the bed looked so innocent, so untroubled, and Draco scowled lightly at the comfortable form before him. It had been a lot of trouble trying to come up with a plausible reason to why Elijah didn't need to go to the hospital wing after suddenly fainting seemingly without reason, but after managing to relay a silent message to Snape, they had somewhat managed. For some reason unknown to Draco, Pansy had put a great effort into it and seemed overjoyed when Draco was free to walk off with Elijah, a secret but somewhat dangerous glint in her eyes as she grinned.

Sighing again, Draco took out the red half of the pill and realized he was unsure of how to get Elijah to swallow it while unconscious. A smile slowly spread along his lips as he watched the other sleeping, blissfully _unaware_ of what happened around him. Taking the opportunity presented as he had promised himself he would, Draco popped the pill into his own mouth and put his hands on either side or Elijah's head, careful not to pull any of those blonde locks as he leaned down.

Brushing their lips together, he found that Elijah's lips were soft and he lingered at the chaste kiss for a moment, savouring the light pressure of lips against lips. There was no resistance as he coaxed the soft lips open with his tongue and transferred the pill into Elijah's mouth, pushing it further back to trigger the swallowing reflex and gently massaging his throat to help the pill go down, reminding himself that there was an actual reason to the kiss beside his own wish for it. As soon as the pill had been swallowed, a moan sounded into the kiss and Draco immediately jerked back, unwilling to let Elijah know quite yet…

Blue eyes fluttered open and Elijah blinked a few times, clearly disoriented. Seeing as he seemed to be okay, Draco walked over to his own bed and picked up a book from the library that he'd borrowed for an essay in transfiguration that McGonagall had given them due to next week. Since he was apparently "watching over the ill Elijah" and didn't have to go to Defence, he could as well get some homework out of the way.

"How are you feeling?" he asked as he sat back against his pillows, the book resting against his legs as he skimmed through the pages in search for the material he needed.

"I… fine. A bit groggy, but it's subsiding," Elijah answered with a slight smile, his blue eyes alight with the realization that it had worked and that they would get away with skipping Defence. Draco could practically hear the thoughts swirling in Elijah's head as he thought of ways to develop this into something bigger and more beneficial.

"Good… ouch!" Draco held up his bleeding finger, viewing the papercut he'd gotten from a page in the book and the droplets of blood that welled up. He reached for his wand to heal the cut when he heard the creak of Elijah shifting on his bed. Turning to see what was up with him, he found his blue eyed friend scramble back over the bed until he had his back pressed against the headboard, his breathing slightly ragged and panicked and his blue eyes wide in distress. As Draco watched, Elijah gulped convulsively and screwed his eyes shut, seemingly trying to close out the existence of the blood.

"H- heal it, Draco," he rasped.

Feeling a smile tug at his lips, Draco flicked his wand towards the door and locked it, ensuring their privacy would be undisturbed. _Take the opportunity when it's presented to you_, he thought as he rose from the bed, languidly strolling towards Elijah. Hearing him coming closer, Elijah's blue eyes snapped open and he stared at him in shock.

"W- what are you doing, Draco?"

The lazy smile finally claimed his lips as Draco stopped by the bed, barely a metre between the two teenage boys. He felt like a predator stalking his prey, enjoying the last minutes of the hunt when the prey was cornered and was unable to flee or defend itself. He knew that if the vampire before him had been any other, the roles would have been reversed, but as it was Elijah didn't dare attack anyone and probably hadn't drunken enough blood to gain enhanced strength.

"How long has it been since you last fed, Elijah?" Draco asked, his voice low and calm, leaving no clue as to the excitement he felt. "Snape said to feed at least twice a week, remember? _At least_ twice – that leaves room for additional feedings, you know."

"What are you _doing_?" Elijah hissed, his voice gaining a slight pitch that showed how distressed he was, confusion and disbelief mixing with fright in those wide, blue depths. The layer of dullness was gone, revealing the emotions otherwise heavily guarded.

"You need it, Elijah. You _want_ it," Draco stated calmly, leaving no room for protests. The blue gaze wandered to the offered blood, seemingly enticed, spellbound by the liquid life that sluggishly rolled down Draco's finger.

Then he seemed to shake himself out of the stupor and turned around hastily on the bed, ready to bolt, to break into a mad dash to put distance between himself and Draco even thought he couldn't escape since the door was locked. Having been ready for the escape attempt, Draco threw himself over the bed and Elijah, positioning himself behind the other with one arm latched around his waist and his bleeding finger pressed against those soft lips that were now pressed close in a thin line. The slightly smaller frame froze in his arms, his breathing quick and jerky as if he tried to breathe as little as possible in order to avoid the smell of blood.

"Why do you fight it, Elijah?" Draco whispered in his ear, his voice inviting, bordering on being seductive. A violent tremble raced through the body in his arms, and then a wet tongue shot out to lap at the cut, an unsatisfied groan escaping when the blood disappeared. Taking the finger into his mouth, Elijah sealed his lips around the digit and sucked hard, drawing more blood as his tongue swirled around the finger. A deep moan vibrated through him at the taste of blood, and the tense body became boneless in Draco's arms.

A familiar thrill of lust ran down Draco's spine as a responding moan was drawn from him, and Draco pressed himself closer, his chest flush against Elijah's back and his chin resting on his shoulder. He sneaked his free hand in under Elijah's wrinkled shirt and stroked his lower abdomen, feeling the muscles quiver under his touch as a weak moan escaped around his captured finger. Enjoying the feel of skin against skin, Draco angled his head to the side and kissed Elijah's neck, relishing in the tickle of the blonde hair as it brushed against his cheek.

Elijah shifted slightly under his touch as if bothered but didn't stop lavishing attention to his finger, and Draco let his hand move further down until it rested on his pants right above his groin, close enough to tease and build anticipation but not close enough to touch. Feeling Elijah shift again, moving as if he tried to get the hand to either disappear completely or to go further down, Draco smiled against his neck and moved his hand down to squeeze his erection thorough his pants.

Elijah gasped, his whole body leaning forward as if trying to lean closer into the touch, and Draco took the opportunity to reclaim he finger before it rotted away because of blood loss. Unbuttoning his pants and pulling the zipper down, Draco sneaked his hand inside and found hot, hardened flesh pulsing against his touch. Pulling down the interfering clothes, Draco fisted Elijah with a sure hand and relished in the breathy moans he gained as prize.

His free hand found its was in under Elijah's shirt and stroked his stomach and chest, the shirt riding up to reveal his quivering stomach and his heaving chest as he panted for air, moans working their way up his throat, his face flushed and blue eyes alight with pleasure. He began moving his hips, thrusting them back and forth as he mindlessly sought further movement, further friction and pleasure. Draco gasped as Elijah's ass rubbed roughly against his already half hard cock, adding delicious friction.

Draped over Elijah with his chin on his shoulder and his panted breaths washing over his flushed cheek, Draco sped up the strokes and Elijah rubbed back more frantically, both of them soon reduced to a panting and moaning mess. Elijah soon came, tipped over the edge as Draco latched on to his neck and sucked hard, and Draco followed suit as he let himself go.

Falling back in a boneless heap on the bed, Elijah spread out over Draco, relishing the closeness and warmth of a human body as his breathing slowly levelled out to a more normal tempo. His eyes closed and an expression of utter contentment spread over his face as he drifted off into a light slumber. Once he'd collected himself enough to be able to think properly, Draco flickered a cleaning spell over them before putting an arm around Elijah, holding him close, and the blonde moved to fit in properly in the embrace.

Throwing a glance at the watch, Draco found that it was about three hours until they should go to dinner – until then, he had no plans to move. Combing his fingers through Elijah's slightly sweaty stands, he found it felt like the finest silk running between his fingers. Smiling in the afterglow of the orgasm, Draco let his eyes fall shut and decided that this was something worth repeating.

XXX

He was warm, the human body under him providing all the warmth he might need, and he felt completely sated, both his need for blood and sexually since a certain tension had built after the times he'd been forced to deflate his problem after feeing from Snape. He was content and felt better then he'd done since… He couldn't remember ever feeling this good, his body leaden and heavy but still tingling with lingering pleasure, and his mind was filled with a comfortable haze that didn't inspire overly much thinking but seemed to encourage simple enjoyment of the moment.

He hummed happily as fingers scratched his scalp and lazily rubbed his cheek against the still heaving chest he pillowed his head on. Sniffing, he smelt a fresh, clean smell, the smell of soap and shampoo. The world didn't matter, nothing mattered but this, and he didn't want to think about anything but how enjoyable it was to simply lay there and be petted like some big, lazy cat. But he couldn't stop the haze in his mind from lifting as the afterglow slowly dissolved, and unbidden thoughts came to life, forcing him look back at what had happened, at what they'd done.

Tensing, he felt himself grow pale as all blood left his face, and Draco's hand stilled on his head as he felt the sudden change of mood.

"What is it?" he mumbled, his voice calm, low, gentle. Almost… concerned, caring?

"We- we just…" Harry stammered uncertainly, unable to comprehend how he'd been able to just let it all go like that, how he would have given in to the pleasure so easily. A small voice suggested it might be because he hadn't gotten much pleasure through his life, but Harry resolutely ignored it.

To his surprise, Draco chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest as Harry had his ear pressed against it. "Yeah, we did," he answered simply. "Do you regret it?"

Turning his head to rest his chin against Draco's chest and staring at him with wide eyes, Harry couldn't believe how the other would take it so lightly. They didn't know each other that well, at least _Draco_ didn't know _him_ that well since he didn't even know of his true identity! And Harry didn't have any feelings for him, hadn't even been attracted to him before the blood had come into the picture and aroused him. It just wasn't right!

… but it did feel damned good…

Blushing, Harry shook his head and turned his face to rest his cheek against Draco's chest again, hoping to hide his flushed face. The hand on his head continued the light scraping, and Harry's eyes slipped shut. He liked this, and even thought it didn't feel completely morally right and all that, he wasn't going to deny that he wanted it.

"Let's do it again, then," Draco answered surely, and Harry almost couldn't believe his own ears. Again…? "We both liked it, you need blood regularly and don't like the arrangement with Snape, and I'm a willing provider as long as you don't drain me," Draco argued lightly, apparently sensing Harry's hesitance.

_Is he serious? _was the thought that circulated in Harry's thought, and he lifted his gaze to search Draco's face for any hint that he would me joking. When he couldn't find any, he gave a slight nod before making himself comfortable atop the other again.

"Deal," he murmured, and felt a butterfly kiss being placed on his blonde locks.

"Deal," Draco agreed.

XXX

"How did it go?" the ginger twins chorused as soon as Harry and Draco came into the Great Hall that evening to eat dinner, not even giving them the chance to glace at the abundance of food before all they could see was ginger hair.

"It was great!" Harry exclaimed in a hushed voice, forgetting the last shred of embarrassment over what he'd done with Draco as he turned his full attention to the twins. Seeing as the discussion was likely to last for a while, Draco patted him lightly on the shoulder before he left for the Slytherin table. The platinum blonde heir no longer seemed to resent Gryffindors, at least not openly, but he never spent more time with them then what was necessary.

"I was out within minutes, and once Draco had given me the other half, I was fine again after a couple of minutes. I was a bit dazed and so in the beginning, but otherwise there were no after effects," Harry continued, excited that the pills had worked and that they could be used more times.

"Are you up for some more, then?" George asked, wiggling his brows suggestively.

"Sure, whatever liberates me of close contact with the pink toad," Harry quickly agreed eagerly. Now that he had a chance of escaping, the mere thought of having to sit in one of her classes was torturous.

"When do you have Defence next time?"

"Tuesday next week," Harry answered, knowing his schedule by heart.

"Good, then try this one next time," Fred said, handing over a pill that was half white, half yellow.

"It's a Puking Pastille," George explained.

"We suggest you take it in class," Fred continued. "Right in the beginning. That way, you can rush out to the toilet and no one will expect you to return to class."

Grinning, Harry hid the pill away. "Have you thought about selling these pills to other students?" he asked, pausing to let a seventh year prefect walk by. "The toad will be suspicious if I get ill on all of her classes, but if it spread…"

"I like your way of thinking," George said, the grin he shared with his twin splitting their freckled faces in half.

"She can't bloody well accuse the whole student body," Fred agreed, and the three of them nodded to each other in agreement.

"What are you whispering about?" a familiar voice asked suspiciously, and the three teenage boys looked up to see Hermione walk over to them, prefect badge gleaming on her chest. Exchanging meaningful looks the three quickly put on innocent faces before turning to the bushy-haired witch.

"Nothing important," Harry said, and the twins nodded in unison.

Brown eyes narrowed slightly as it was quite obvious that she didn't believe them, but she dropped the subject anyway and grabbed the sleeve of Harry's robe. "I want to talk with you about what happened during lunch," she stated, clearly determined to get some answers out of him. Pulling him along through the double doors into the Entrance Hall, she found them a corner where they would be granted a relative privacy from the passing students, teachers and ghosts.

"You're not using those pills, are you?" she asked as soon as she was sure no one would be listening.

"You know about them?" Harry asked, his surprise showing with his raised brows.

"Yes," Hermione answered, clearly exasperated_. _"They used the first-years in Gryffindor as test subjects just a little over a week ago, so of course I'd know about it."

"Really? Then why do they need me?" Harry asked, feeling amusement bubbling under the surface at the antics of the twins.

"Because I forbade them from using the students as test subjects for their little inventions, inventions I quite frankly find immoral!" Her eyes were wide and her breathing slightly quickened, showing how wound up she was about the matter. "Taking pills to ensure illness so that one can get away with skipping classes! Have they no shame?"

"Hermione," Harry interrupted, sighing. Really, he should have expected this reaction from her since her work-ethics were so high, but he couldn't find it in him to take it as seriously as she did. On another hand, if he told her a little of the truth…? "Hermione, it's not really that simple, at lest not in my case," he began, immediately catching her full attention.

"It's not?" she asked suspiciously, obviously thinking he was trying to find some excuse to get away from a scolding, and Harry had to admit to himself that he felt slightly guilty. The fact that Umbridge's classes were agonizingly boring was no doubt an important factor to why he was so eager to try the pills the twins offered.

"She uses a blood quill during detentions, Hermione," he explained, and if the dark expression on her face was anything to go by, she already knew what that was. "If you think about my… _condition_, you understand why I can't risk any more detentions, right?" he asked carefully, not willing to mention the word 'vampire' even thought the risk that someone would hear them was minimal.

Brown eyes widened and she gave him a serious nod of understanding, accepting his reasoning for taking the pills.

"Just don't start using them as a reason to skip classes, Elijah," she warned, her eyes holding the same spark of distrust they used to have when he and Ron had skipped homework and pleaded with her to get to copy her notes.

"Of course not!" he immediately answered, feeling slightly guilty but not overly so.

"Good!" Hermione said happily, flashed him a smile and turned to disappear into the Great Hall. Sighing, feeling as if he'd just barely managed to escape a trap, Harry followed her into the hall at a more languid pace, steering towards the green Slytherin table where he quickly found his four friends gathered.

As he sat down, he noted that Draco sat as far away from Pansy as possible without it looking suspicious, and the blonde continually shot her glances of alarm and slight shock, his silver eyes minutely widened. The cunning Slytherin woman answered with big, mysterious smiles, giggles and meaningful but indecipherable looks, all the while wriggling her brows, and when she spotted Harry she wasted no time to wink at him.

"What's she on?" Harry asked in a theatrically hushed voice as he leaned closer to Draco, the action for some reason making Pansy's smile widen and her eyes sparkle with unknown intentions.

"She…" Draco began, only to have to cut himself of and swallow before he could continue. "You know she's been a bit weird lately? Always pairing us up when playing cards and such?"

Harry nodded, raising blonde brows in question as he couldn't see what it was that seemed to scare the usually controlled teen so.

"She tried to get us together, Elijah," Draco said, silver eyes meeting blue ones with a grave look. Glancing at the giddy girl at the other side of the table, he lowered his voice to ensure that she couldn't hear anything. "She's like some scary _fangirl_. The first thing she said when I came here was '_You did good but you were a bit slow_'."

Harry stared at him for a moment, incomprehensive until he threw a glance at Pansy and found her wiggling her brows quite suggestively, making him colour up as realization hit him. As if wanting to confirm his thoughts, Pansy leaned towards them over the table and put her hand by her mouth to hinder others from seeing as she mouthed;

"Was he any good?"

XXX

The following evening and day were both dedicated to keeping as much distance between the two blonde teens and Pansy as possible, as the girl seemed to follow them everywhere with that maddened twinkle in her eyes as she seemed to fantasize about the most unholy things involving Draco and Harry, making both of them embarrassed beyond saving each time she managed to get close enough to drop a comment or wink at them. As the others didn't know what was going on between the three usually close friends, they were left to confusion as both Draco and Harry refused to explain and put a great effort into stopping the gleeful Pansy from doing so.

Of course, their friends weren't the only ones to notice, especially since Pansy caused chaos when she tried to sneak into their dorm on Friday night, scaring Crabbe and Goyle shitless with her appearance. Their screams attracted the attention of the rest of their house mates, and during the turmoil that ensued someone went to get Snape, the reason to why Harry, Draco and Pansy were now seated in uncomfortable, hard chairs before said teacher's desk, dark eyes glowering at them. Since it had taken a little over an hour only to clear up who was actually involved in the mess, the clock was now getting further and further from midnight with every tick, and the bat-like man clearly didn't appreciate the thought of staying up all night because of some ridiculous prank that was worthy of the Weasley twins but certainly not of his Slytherins.

"What were you doing in the fifth year boy dorm, Parkinson?" he asked coldly, black eyes piercing her and making her shift slightly in her seat, yet she managed to keep her head held high and the twinkle didn't fade from her eyes as she glanced at the boys seated to her left. Both boys stared at her, their glares warning as they tried to threaten her into making up some kind of cover story, both of them chanting '_don't tell, don't tell_' silently in their minds. Her grin widened and she moved a bit away from them, hindering them from actually doing anything as she opened her mouth.

"The two of them are together, professor, and I-just-wanted-to-see…!" the last part came out in a jumbled mess as she tried to get it out as quickly as possible, since Harry gave up all hope of behaving in front of the potions master and threw himself over her, tackling her to the ground with his hands over her mouth.

"Spring, get off Parkinson. Both of you take your seats," Snape snapped and Harry unwillingly rose from where he'd been straddling Pansy's hips, his glare dark as she smiled at him, but there was a hint of uncertainty in her eyes as the danger in his eyes as unquestionable. Taking their seats, the only female in the room scooted away from the two boys, putting distance between them as if she thought every millimetre could be what saved her life.

"You need to learn what's appropriate to pry into and what's not, Parkinson, especially and particularly when it's regarding your own house mates," Snape berated, and she shrunk back minutely in her seat at the scolding. "I trust you'll keep this to yourself and from here on let their private lives remain private? Good, then you're dismissed."

Practically shooting up from her seat, she left the room without trying to retain her dignity. No doubt the swagger in her steps would return and the surety in her eyes would once again be on display as soon as she'd closed the office door, but until then she rushed out in a flurry of motion, the door soon clicking shut behind her. In the very same moment, Snape waved his wand and erected privacy wards, black eyes turning to the two boys seated before him. Harry felt himself wanting to crawl under the desk and disappear, his face burning with shame – not shame over what he'd done, but the fact that Snape had found out, especially since he'd so far gotten along with his former enemy.

"I cannot say I am willing to fully accept this… partnership of yours," he began, but to the great surprise of both Harry and the professor, Draco had the guts to cut him off.

"It's really not like that," he stated, his gaze unwavering and his back stiff as he met the black gaze of their professor. "We're not in a romantic relationship at all."

"So you're just _fuck buddies_ then?" Snape asked vehemently, his black eyes darkening further as he made it clear that such a relationship was no better. The crude wording made both his students blink in surprise, but he didn't seem to care as he pierced Draco with his gaze.

"No," Harry answered with forced calm, and immediately regretted having opened his mouth as the black gaze turned to him. "It was an accident, and I must take the majority of the blame." Draco shot him a warning glance at this, but Harry ignored him and continued, gaining courage with each word. He had been a Gryffindor after all. "Draco cut himself on a paper and triggered my blood lust, which is how it began," he explained but paused, unsure of how to continue. "And, well… We're both hormonal teenagers, so it developed a bit… _differently_ then it usually does when I feed from you, professor."

His face was positively burning at having to explain something like that, and his voice had gained a pitch of nervousness. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a slight hint of pink on the pale Malfoy heir, but he didn't dare break the contact with those black orbs to glance at his partner in crime.

A stiff, awkward silence filled the room, making the two students shift in their seats as they awaited their judgement and possible doom.

"I trust you understand the necessity of keeping this a secret, both of you," Snape finally stated, and they nodded frantically, ready to promise close to anything to get away. "If anyone would start suspecting anything, you'll have them believe the two of you are a couple, since it would be preferable to the truth being revealed." They nodded again, Harry finding himself hoping it wouldn't be necessary – if it was embarrassing to tell Snape, then how embarrassing would it be to have the whole school know? He was pulled out of his thoughts as Snape continued.

"It will be your responsibility to see to it so that Elijah feeds when it's necessary," the professor stated, turned to Draco who smiled at this as he nodded, and he threw a glance full of promises at Harry, making his face heated – yet he couldn't stop the smile from forming on his lips as he ducked away to hide his blush.

XXX

_He's going to be the death of me_, Snape thought as the door closed behind the two Slytherins, a deep sigh escaping him. He knew he _should_ repost to the Lord and tell him of the fact that Harry's blood donor had been switched to Draco, but the Lord didn't even know that Draco knew of the fact that Harry was a vampire, the cause of Snape's earlier decision to protect his godson by keeping the information from the Dark Lord. So how would he possible be able to tell the Lord that he was no longer Harry's blood donor?

Rising from his chair and steering towards his bedroom, he silently cursed his own decision as well as his protectiveness for his godson and said godson's ability to cause trouble, not to mention Harry's ability to cause trouble.

_Those two __hormonal eggheads better keep all this secret or they'll wish Voldemort had gotten his hands on them first_, he promised himself as he shed his black robe and made himself ready for bed. He needed his sleep, especially since Merlin only knew what trouble would be waiting for him tomorrow.

**Thanks for the great ideas you reviewers come with – I really apprentice them since they help me fill out the st****ory between the big happenings! XD If there's anything you'd like to happen, just say so and I'll consider it! :)**

**Oh, and you know what? I'M HAPPY-HAPPY BECAUSE I'VE GOT SUMMER HOLIDAYS FOR ABOUT 2 MONTHS! XD **_**Hopefully**_**, this also means that I'll update more often, but I can't promise anything because I have to study to take my drivers licence and I have to get my hands on some money… O,o **


	23. Chapter 23

**Ok, people, this chapter is shorter then it's meant to be and originally, I didn't mean for it to end where it ends, but as it happened I went to a really nice Yaoi convention where w****e had this little noodle party; a guy boiled 4 packs of noodles and we all ate them from the same pot. Now I've got the flu and my brain has boiled down to red, puttering gravy with lumps of fat floating at the surface and nerve fibres gathering at the bottom - it really doesn't make it easier to think or put your thoughts on paper… :( Since I don't know how long it will take me to get better and start writing again (I've already been ill for about a week and it's not getting better…) I've decided to upload this as a short chapter, and you'll get the rest once I'm better. **

**So happy reading and good health to you all! :) **

Blue eyes stared up into the green canopy overhead, equally green hangings with silver lining closing off his deeply shadowed world of comforters and darkness, the silence disturbed by his heavy breathing as his chest heaved, drawing oxygen into his lungs. The darkness of his little world held his nightmares, the bad dreams waiting for him to drop his guard so that they could attack again.

His eyes drifted to the clock by his bed, and it seemed to laugh at him as it showed him that it was closing in on two in the morning. Thankfully it was Monday, so his first class would be History of Magic, meaning he could sleep untroubled for an hour extra, but after that he had Potions and would need to be awake and alert.

But he couldn't sleep, didn't want to sleep. He'd already slept for about two hours, but had woken up just as one of his nightmares had started taking form, the image of his friends' blood on his hands still clear. And it wasn't as if he'd forgotten to take Dreamless Sleep, it just wasn't working properly anymore. He'd noticed a few days back that his sleep wasn't quite as undisturbed anymore, but this was the first time he'd had a nightmare when taking the potion. Was it becoming ineffective because he'd taken it too often?

Needing to occupy his brain so as not to fall asleep, he thought back on the past weekend. After Pansy had calmed down and started being more discreet about her snooping, things had overall calmed and mostly returned to normal, but it had still been an interesting couple of days.

Firstly, Hermione had finished reading _True Vampirism_, as usual reading insanely fast, and she'd returned the book to him. She'd been furious about the chapter about society's view of vampires, and they'd ended up in a long and throughout discussion on the topic, somehow leading to Harry telling her that Voldemort was all for equality between species, the reason to why "Elijah" sided with the Dark Lord. This had made the brunet Gryffindor thoughtful, and she'd wandered off muttering to herself about equality and discussing the issue with Voldemort, which had surprised Elijah. Thinking of the Dark Lord's views of muggleborns, it probably wouldn't be a good idea…

After that, they'd had another meeting with the Defence Group, late Saturday evening in one of the unused classrooms. The meetings were going well, they were making great progress even thought they'd only met a few times so far, and the group were getting to know "Elijah" and were warming up to him, meaning they were no longer as jumpy around him and didn't seem to expect him to murder them from behind when he got the chance. It was nice since most of them were his old friends, people he already knew, and hopefully it wouldn't be ruined when Ron returned with his prejudice against Elijah and all other Slytherins.

Speaking of which… The redhead had returned to Hogwarts Sunday afternoon, and they'd accidentally spotted each other in the Entrance Hall, the ginger sending Harry a nasty glare before stomping off to the Gryffindor tower. Thumping his head against the pillow and sighing, Harry fleetingly wondered if the twins had gone through with their plan to plant spiders in their younger brother's bed. Hopefully Ronald wasn't sleeping right now either, in fear of the spiders that might be lurking in the dark, just like his own nightmares were…

Rolling over, Harry cursed silently under his breath. He'd never get any sleep this way, not if he didn't want to dream, but he was tired, he needed sleep. Momentarily closing his eyes he tried to come up with an idea, any idea as to how he'd get some undisturbed sleep, how to fend off the horrors of his dreams…

His eyes snapped open as he realized the solution, the one and only way he knew of that would allow him to sleep peacefully without any invading dreams and without taking Dreamless Sleep. That one time when he'd slept with Draco on the couch in the common room he hadn't had any dreams, and when he'd talked to Tom about it, he'd said that it could be because the vampire in him craved human closeness. If that was it, then he only needed to sleep beside someone, and since he and Draco slept in the same dorm anyway and it had worked with the blonde heir before, it should work the same way again.

But he couldn't just walk over to Draco's bed and lay down, especially not since the sticking spell on the curtains would keep him out… Of course, he could creep in under them, but that would be really awkward, and what if Draco didn't want him there? Or rather, why would he want him there?

Turning his head to the side, he stared at the green hangings that separated him from Draco and sleep. Sitting up, he took a deep breath and showed his own curtains to the side, revealing Draco's bed on the other side of a strip of unoccupied floor. _Gryffindor courage_, he thought as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and planted his naked feet on the cold stone floor. _It was enough to get me into the house of the lion, to enable me to draw the sword of Gryffindor out of the sorting hat, and it sure as hell should be enough to get me into Draco's bed. _

He blushed madly as he realized how easily misinterpreted that thought could be, especially if one thought of what he and Draco had done just a couple of days ago, but it didn't stop him from padding over to Draco's bed where he crunched down and lifted the hangings – the sticking spell kept them glued together, but there was nothing stopping him from crawling in under them. Peeking over the edge of the mattress he found Draco sleeping on his side, turned to face Harry with a relaxed and peaceful expression on his pale, finely carved face, platinum stands falling into his face. One arm was bent in under the pillow, the other resting on the cover, his aristocratic fingers loosely curled in sleep.

_Don't wake up, don't wake up, don't wake up_, Harry thought as he climbed up into the bed, all the while ignoring the thought of what would happen in the morning when Draco found him uninvited in his bed. As the mattress moved under his added weight, silver eyes popped open, drowsy from sleep not nonetheless comprehending. Freezing mid-motion, Harry stared at him, ready to bolt if he was rejected, all thoughts of Gryffindor courage flown from his mind.

The visible hand grabbed a corner of the cover and lifted it in an inviting gesture, a slight smile on his lips as he raised a pale brow, almost challenging as if asking Harry if he dared. Feeling his face heat, he slipped in under the cover and found an arm slung over him, pulling him close until he rested with is forehead against Draco's collarbone, their bodies curled to fit into the embrace and their legs entwined. Closing his eyes, Harry felt a slight smile of contentment spread on his lips, warmth spreading through his chilled being. He fell asleep to the clean smell of Draco's shampoo.

XXX

Waking up in Draco's bed had been an awkward affair, especially since the vampire in him had been completely against the idea of letting go even as Draco tried to get to the loo, resulting in minor wrestling until Harry woke up properly and realized what he was doing. The following problem had been to be able to get out to Draco's bed without any of the others in the dorm noticing, which he had barely managed by jumping between the beds when the others had been looking away for a moment. Unfortunately, he'd had too much speed, causing him to fall out of his bed on the other side and crash onto the floor, immediately drawing everyone's attention.

Somehow managing to act as if nothing had happened and ignoring everyone as they stared, sharing questioning glances between each other, he'd gone through his morning routine as quickly as possible before rushing down to the Great Hall. Thinking that it would be a relief to escape from the dorm, he quickly found himself disappointed as bloodshot, hateful eyes pierced him from the Gryffindor table. Apparently the twins had gone through with their plan to put spiders in Ron's bed, and the redhead now seemed to blame Harry, even though the twins were grinning mischievously from their seats further down the red table. They waved happily at Harry as he walked towards the Slytherin table, and he smiled and waved in return, the glare cutting into him intensifying.

Sitting down beside Pansy and her female friends since he'd left the others behind in the dorm, he sighed deeply and pillowed his forehead on his arms, half laying on the table.

"Did you have a bad night?" Pansy asked sweetly, leaning over to comb her fingers through his blonde stands in an intimate gesture he didn't mind.

"No, not really, but…" Not finding the words he lifted his hand and absently waved towards the Gryffindor table from where he could still feel Ronald glaring daggers.

"I can't believe how stupid that blood traitor is," she grumbled in response, and Harry barely refrained from telling her off for calling the redhead a blood traitor. It also helped that Pansy's irritation caused her to scratch his scalp instead of just combing through his hair, and he hummed in contentment.

"He's sent home for two weeks for fighting with you, and first thing he does when getting back is provocation you!" Pansy hissed with dislike, to caught up to notice the way Harry practically purred under the scratch of her long nails. Maybe he could talk Draco into letting his nails grow out as well?

"Come on, Pansy," Harry mumbled, humming again as she happened to scratch at just the right spot. "It's not exactly surprising, is it?"

Not receiving an answer, he tilted his head slightly to peer up at Pansy with one eye, the other eye covered by blonde hair. He found the witch staring at him with wide eyes full of mischief, a smile playing on her lips. She leaned closer so that no one else would be able to hear, practically leaning over him with her breasts just before him, producing a view that would make most boys overjoyed but just made Harry raise his brows. Catching a whiff of her scent, he found her smelling of a sweet perfume with some kind of sharp edge, somewhat reminding him of sweet-smelling roses with loads of thorns.

"Does Draco do this to you?" she whispered in his head, scratching his scalp pointedly to make it clear what she meant.

"_Pansy!_" he groaned in despair and his his flushed face in his arms as she lughed at him.

XXX

Harry sighed in exasperation, a feeling of déjà vu coming over him as he turned around to face Ronald who'd stopped him on his way to Transfiguration after lunch. The difference between this time and last time Ron had called after him was that they weren't in some deserted corridor, but rather the contrary as they were in the crowded Entrance Hall, students constantly spilling out of the Great Hall as they steered towards their next class. The idiot wouldn't dare try anything here, amidst what seemed to be the majority of the school's population. Or was he really so stuck on the thought that Harry was in the wrong that he didn't care about that? Harry hoped not as he really wasn't up for another fight with the redhead.

"What?" he asked, hoping to keep the confrontation as short and uneventful as possible.

"I won't let you act as the victim!" Ron exclaimed loudly, making a few passing students turn to check what the yelling was about. "Not when you've turned my whole family against me! Even mom and dad think it was right that I was suspended!"

"And you don't think it might have something to do with the fact that you cracked my head open?" Harry answered coldly, his voice dripping with sarcasm at the suggestion. Draco, who stood by his side, squeezed his shoulder warningly, and Harry agreed that it probably wasn't very clever of him to bite back when Ronald obviously was angry already.

"Come on, Ron, back off," Dean said from where he stood by Ronald with Seamus, Hermione for some reason absent.

"No!" Ronald shouted, the crowd stopping completely and gathering around them to see what the commotion was all about. "I'm trying to help you all, can't you see that? He's manipulating you, deceiving you all to think he is nice when he's really working for You-Know-Who!"

"So I'm working for Voldemort now, am I?" Harry asked flatly, looking at Ronald disdainfully as he crossed his arms over his chest. A shocked gasp went through the crowd as the One-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was named, and Ronald quite clearly paled.

"Elijah-" Draco began, a warning clear in his voice, but he was cut off by Ronald.

"See! Only one who sides with You-Know-Who would say his name like that!" he cried, triumphantly.

"You don't say?" Harry bit back, danger glinting in his gaze as his expression darkened fully. "Then I guess there's something we don't know about the Headmaster – he uses Voldemort's name, after all," he pointed out, feeling a dark satisfaction at their aghast looks as he accused the man many of them idolized. "Or what about your dear Harry Potter?" he continued cruelly.

Before he could go on, the front of his robes were grabbed and Ronald shook him, his furiously red face so close it blocked out everything else.

"Don't you dare soil Harry's name, you filthy bastard!" he shouted, spittle flying and making Harry sneer in disgust. "I hope they arrest you and throw you in Azkaban with the Dementors!"

The words themselves weren't that bad, it was something Harry could have thought when in a fit of anger, but to have the words thrown at him by someone who was once his best friend, someone who was supposed to know him and who knew his fears of Dementors – it was something else entirely, and portrayed exactly how much Ronald had come to hate him. Harry's eyes narrowed dangerously as cold iron squeezed his heart, all feelings seemingly running out of him until only cold fury remained, allowing him to think more clearly than ever.

Raising his arms, he grabbed the collar of Ronald's robes in return and pressed his weight forward, kicking off of the ground and toppling them over, causing them to crash to the ground with Harry standing on his knees over the winded redhead. Weasley struggled against his hold, trying to roll over to pin Harry, but the blonde's strength had increased slightly after he'd started drinking blood and that along with the accidental magic that seemed to pulse around him and pressed Ronald to the floor made it impossible for him to escape Harry's hold.

Leaning down until their noses were nearly touching, Harry let go of his robes and placed a hand on each side of his face in a gentle hold, softly massaging Ronald's temples in a deceivingly loving way that made the redhead freeze in shock, fear and confusion mingling in wide, blue eyes as the sharp eyes staring down at him were all but loving.

"You think you know everything, don't you?" Harry murmured, tilting his head slightly to brush his lips against Ronald's nose tip. The mouldy smell of old things along with Ronald's aftershave hit him, making his eye twitch slightly. "You know nothing, Ron. If you knew what your beloved Headmaster is like, what he's done, you might realize that everything isn't black or white as you think; the world isn't that easy. But you know nothing of the truth, yet you accuse me with certainty," he whispered, placing one of his hands on the stone by Ronald's head to steady himself, his fingers curling in, clawing at the floor.

"You have no idea of who I really am," he stated before raising, towering over the motionless teen on the floor, five deep gorges in the stone by his head, left as a courtesy of Harry's accidental magic. "If only you knew…" he whispered solemnly, staring at the claw marks in the floor before he ripped his gaze away and turned to go to their Transfiguration class, Draco and the others following him in respectful silence, leaving him to his own thoughts as the crowd moved to the side to let them pass.

XXX

The Great Hall was filled with students eating their dinner, talking and playing around, some doing homework, reading, studying and training on spells they had a hard time getting right. There were always a certain percent of them gossiping and spreading rumours, but this evening the percent had gone up as quite a few glanced at Harry and Ronald where they sat at separate tables, the gossipers indulging in whispering, the story of what had happened just after lunch already blown out of proportion.

Harry didn't notice, thought, as he stared emptily into space, a blank expression on his face, his fork held in a loose grip and the food on his plate mainly untouched. His friends were staring to worry about him as he'd looked pretty much the same since the confrontation with the youngest Weasel boy, but Harry didn't notice their worried glances either as he was too far gone into his own little world, the thought that everything would have been so different if only Ronald had known occupying him mind.

One thing, small and seemingly simple, and the changes and consequences were so great. If Ron had known from the beginning that Elijah Spring actually was Harry Potter, then they wouldn't have turned into enemies, they'd still be friends. They wouldn't have fought, and Harry wouldn't have stopped drinking the Blood Replacement potion, he wouldn't be drinking real blood, wouldn't have his deal with Draco. Not to mention that he probably wouldn't have become friends with Draco in the first place if he'd been friends with Ron, and he'd probably talked the Sorting Hat into putting him in Gryffindor again.

Maybe Ron and Hermione would have talked him into going to Dumbledore, and then he'd be back on the "light" side again, he wouldn't have the same contact with Snape and he most certainly wouldn't have any friendly contact with Tom. Everything would have returned to normal, to the way things used to be before he was turned into a vampire, except for the fact that he'd still be a vampire.

Would his friends have treated him differently because of the vampirism? Would the people he knew and held dear see him differently? He didn't know, and probably would never find out, but that fact that Ron glared at him and saw him as a Slytherin slime when they met in the compartment at the train instead of somehow recognizing him as his best friend…

"Elijah."

Harry startled out of his thought and swirled his head to the side to give Draco a bewildered look, the blonde leaning close and talking directly into his ear, a hand cupping his neck.

"Wha-?"

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy, for successfully summoning Mr. Spring's attention," Snape said coldly, making Harry turn his head to blink up at the professor in confusion as Draco pulled back and setteled in his seat.

"Professor?" he inquired, attracting the dark glare, but he could see the barely visible softness that rested under the blackness, showing that the man no longer hated him but actually cared for him in his own way.

_I wouldn't have had this if I'd gotten together with Ron and joined the "Light" side again_, he thought with a sappy, warm feeling in his chest. He did miss his old life and all the loving people, especially the Weasley family, but he didn't want to be without what he'd gained after having been turned into a vampire – he definitely didn't want to return to being Tom's enemy.

"Spring!" Snape snapped as Harry's attention slipped again, and Harry gave him an apologetic smile.

"Yes, professor?"

"Come with me," was all the answer he got before Snape turned around, his back robed billowing around him, making him seem even scarier than normal. Glancing uncertainly at Draco while he rose from his seat, the blonde pointed towards the Gryffindor table causing Harry to look over, and seeing Ronald sullenly follow behind the strict McGonagall, he sighed. So the teachers had gotten wind of their confrontation and decided to do something about it. How tiresome.

Meeting up with McGonagall and Ronald in the Entrance Hall, they continued in silence through the castle, the two professors taking the lead and the students following, Ronald now and then glancing uncertainty at Harry who had yet to acknowledge his presence. It soon became obvious that they were headed to Dumbledore's office, the realization giving birth to dread in Harry's chest. So far, he'd been able to fool everyone, to hide his true identity, but would he be able to do so if he came face to face with the old man?

Stepping into the familiar office they were met with the many trinkets, the varying sounds filling the room along with the muted chatter from previous headmasters posing in their respective paintings. Dumbledore himself sat behind his desk, peering at them over his glasses, his fingers weaved together before him as Harry and Ronald were made to sit in conjured armchairs, Ron looking rather tense while Harry let the filling of the comforters swallow him as he sat back.

If he just acted as if there was noting wrong, then he just might be able to fool the old man.

**As I said, not where it was meant to end, but it works okay, so… *shrugs* And believe me, you do not want me to try to type out the rest of the chapter as I am now – it took me 4 trie****s to get my email right so that I could log in here at FFN, and you don't want to know how long it took me to write these A/Ns (=,=)'**

**You know what? My computer died yesterday. The doom is coming for me… O,o Luckily I felt it coming, so I uploaded the unedited version of this chapter and my notes on FFN, so I'll still be able to write! When I've gotten rid of the flu, that is… (=,=)' But, I lost some other things related to this story, and since my dad is pretty good at hogging the computer to himself, it might take a while until next chapter is finished… **

**Now I've warned you! :/ **


	24. Chapter 24

**TNL has gotten over 500 reviews! Thank you everybody! XD *hands out ice cream with chocolate sauce and a cherry on the top***

**For all of you who're getting impatient - there are only a few chapters left until we get some **_**real**_** action! :) I'm looking forward to it! **

**So, there'll be more not-so-innocent-stuff in this chapter, so now you've all been warned****! :) **

"Lemon drop, anyone?" Dumbledore asked merrily, his whole face smiling and his eyes twinkling as usual, making him seem completely carefree as if he didn't have two students practically brought in for interrogation before him.

Snape felt his eyebrow twitch slightly with irritation at the old man's antics and glanced at the teens sitting in armchairs before the headmaster's desk. The redheaded Weasely boy looked nervous, tense, and was quite obviously aware that he was the one who had acted wrongly, something that surprised Snape as he had been under the impression that the Gryffindor boy had been completely blinded by his hatred and distrust for Harry... or Elijah, as he was now known as. Talking to students who had witnessed the fight, he and Minerva had gotten quite a clear picture of what had happened, and it seemed as if whatever Elijah had said to Weasley had gotten through his thick skull. Sadly, nobody seemed to have been able to hear what had been said, as the words had apparently only been meant for the redhead. He could only hope that Elijah hadn't revealed anything that should better be kept secret.

Moving his black gaze to the blonde teen, he found an relaxed pose and innocent blue eyes as the boy declined the offered candy. It seemed the boy was going to try to act as if nothing was out of the ordinary, as if he didn't have anything to hide, and Snape could only hope that it would succeed. He, if anyone, knew that those merrily twinkling eyes saw more then you could ever imagine.

"How are your studies coming along, Mr. Spring? Have you managed to settle into the routines here at Hogwarts?" Dumbledore asked in his usual, fatherly manner, and Snape found his patience wearing thin. Couldn't the old man just get to the point and get over with it? The longer they talked, the greater the risk that Elijah might slip up.

"It's going great, thank you, headmaster," Elijah answered respectfully, only the loss of friendliness giving away his distrust for the old man before him. "Studying at a boarding school such as this is very different from studying at home with a tutor, but it also enables you to focus on your studies in another way," he continued, going with the cover story that he had previously been tutored at home due to his uncle's secluded lifestyle.

"Good, very good," Dumbledore mumbled, sounding pleased with himself. "And I have seen that you have managed to find friends both in the Slytherin and the Gryffindor house?" At Elijah's nod, the twinkling, blue eyes turned to Weasley, who seemed to shrink back in his armchair. "Unfortunately, the two of you do not seem to get along. Why is that?"

Silence filled the room as the headmaster's slightly saddened voice fell silent, a hint of disappointment in the blue eyes as if he couldn't understand why every student at the school couldn't get along. Really, Snape couldn't understand why the old man was making such a big deal of it; Slytherins and Gryffindors had always hated each other, so the conflict between the two was hardly surprising, especially not when the Weasley boy was such a hothead.

Weasley was fiddling with the worn hem of his sleeve nervously, not daring to meet the headmaster's inquiring look, guilty written all over his freckled face. Elijah, on the other hand, glanced at the redhead once before turning forward, blue eyes locking on some trinket behind Dumbledore's right shoulder. The silence grew heavy and Snape found himself scowling darkly, thrumming his foot with impatience at their immature behaviour as McGonagall's lips were pursed in dislike, a frown appearing between her brows.

Seemingly realizing that the boys wouldn't answer him willingly, Dumbledore sighed heavily before fixing his stare on the Weasley boy. "Mr. Weasley."

The boy's head snapped up and he seemed to want to disappear into the stopping of the armchair as his gaze locked with the one of the headmaster.

"I heard that you accused Mr. Spring of being a follower of Voldemort's, is that true?" Dumbledore asked, his voice low and calm, yet there was no question of the dislike in his frown.

Weasley gulped but nodded, looking uncertain and even slightly scared, as Elijah sat silent, his gaze wandering between the headmaster and the youngest Weasley son.

"That is a grave accusation, Mr. Weasley. Very grave. What do you base it on?"

Gulping again before glancing at Elijah, Weasley sighed, his shoulders slumping. "I... I just miss Harry, you know?" he began, sounding slightly hoarse and averting his gaze as he looked down on the floor between his feet. Seeing Elijah tense, Snape turned his attention to the blonde teen and found guilt flashing through the blue eyes. Cursing the loyalty and friendship that Gryffindors shared, Snape silently hoped that Elijah wouldn't give himself away just because he felt bad for his former friend, especially not since the fact that Weasley missed Potter didn't justify the treatment he'd subjected Elijah to.

"He was always there for us, keeping an eye out for danger and anything bad that might come our way," Weasley continued, all of his feelings on display in the typical Gryffindor manner. "But now he's not here anymore, and it just feels like You-Know-Who can stand behind every corner." Blue, glossy eyes raised to meet the understanding gaze of the headmaster. "Have you heard anything about... about Harry?"

Snape scowled as he saw Elijah turn away to look at the sorting hat on its shelf, sadness and guilt lurking under the dullness of his blue eyes. He was quite apparently feeling bad about the Weasley boy's worry for him, and Snape could only hope that it wouldn't give him away, that Dumbledore would interpret it as being overwhelmed by the strong emotions or some other nonsense as the headmaster was prone to.

"No, unfortunately not. But do not lose hope, my boy. We're still searching and have no intention of giving up, not before Harry is back safetly among us, where he belongs."

The statement made Elijah frown slightly while Weasley nodded solemnly, and Dumbledore turned to the blonde.

"Can you accept this as Mr. Weasley's apology, Mr. Spring?" he asked, startling Elijah who hadn't been prepared to suddenly be addressed, as he'd been neglected for quite some time of the discussion.

"Yes," he answered quickly, a smile slipping into place as he shrugged. "As long as I don't have to look over my shoulder all the time."

Dumbledore smiled in understanding and nodded, the picture of an old uncle or grandfather delighted that his children had made peace. Elijah's eyes twitched as if he'd just managed to stop himself from narrowing them, and Snape knew that the teen wasn't fooled by the headmaster's fatherly and caring appearance.

"Now that all misunderstandings have been cleared and all is well-!" Dumbledore began cheerfully, only to be interrupted as McGonagall cleared her throat. "- it is just as well that our dear Minerva reminds me of your punishment," he finished with an amused look in the stern professor's direction, and both boys groaned wholeheartedly, seemingly having thought that they could get away without detention.

"Boys, boys, boys," Dumbledore mumbled, shaking his head as his eyes twinkled madly with amusement. "You have been assigned to serve detention together so that any lasting conflicts between you can be solved, and you will be helping professor Grubbly-Plank patrolling the Forbidden Forest this Saturday, since there seems to be something new that has arrived to our forest that she would like to identify."

Weasley paled while Elijah groaned again, no doubt thinking back on his detention in first year where he ended up meeting with the Dark Lord. The outcome would hopefully not be as dangerous this time, especially not since the boy was now a dark creature himself, which made him pretty much welcome in the Forbidden Forest as the animals living there saw him as one of them.

"Meet her by Hagrid's cabin at seven o'clock, Saturday evening," Dumbledore ordered mildly, his eyes twinkling as the boys hung their heads and resigned mumbled "yes, professor Dumbledore".

"Now you better hurry back to dinner if you want anything more to eat before the house elves start cleaning the dishes!"

Snape followed the boys with his gaze as they left the office, Weasley glancing uncertainly and a bit worriedly at Elijah, clearly rethinking his hasty evaluation of the blonde teen and most likely trying to decide if he was someone you could hide behind if any dangers were to arise while in the Forbidden Forest. Elijah, on the other hand, was obviously ignoring the redhead, a slight frown between his brows as he disappeared down the winding staircase. As soon as the door had closed behind them, Snape returned his attention to the headmaster and saw McGonagall do the same out of the corner of his eye.

The old man's eyes were serious, only a slight twinkle remaining, and a deep frown had joined the many wrinkles that adorned his elderly face. "Severus, Minerva, I would like the two of you to keep a close eyes on those two, to prevent any further conflict. From what I've heard of their fight today, I am under the impression that Mr. Weasley stands no chance against Mr. Spring if provoked. The fact that Mr. Weasley has come out uninjured from their previous encounters can only be explained by him having the advantage of surprise on his side, hence I am quite worried for Mr. Weasley's safety should he provoke Mr. Spring again."

"That is something I cannot understand, Albus," Minerva cut in, worry and slight confusion colouring her voice. "Their fights have so far been physical with no magical involvement, and Mr. Weasley clearly has the physical advantage, so how can Elijah be the superior one?"

"There's a vast difference between their mindsets, Minerva," Snape drawled, aware that it would be suspicious if he didn't say anything, and the last thing he wanted was for the old man to realize that he was hiding something about the blond teen. "Weasley is hot-headed and lets his anger control his actions, while Spring is calm and collected, with the presence of mind to evaluate the situation. He's a Slytherin, after all," he finished as if the differences between Slytherins and Gryffindors would explain everything.

"While that is indeed the truth, Mr. Spring also has another advantage on his side. One that Mr. Weasley cannot possibly defend himself against," Dumbledore said gravely.

"What would that be, Albus?" McGonagall asked worriedly.

"Accidental magic, my dear," Dumbledore answered silently, and the stern witch put her hand to her throat with a silent gasp, clearly shocked. "Uncontrolled magic that answers to his feelings and sometimes to his desires, something he no doubt uses unconsciously, without being aware of it."

Silence followed the statement as Dumbledore paused to let it sink in since it was highly unusual for magic to behave that way around witches and wizards. It was, however, more usual that magic behaved like that around magical creatures that had once been normal wizards, such as vampires or werewolves, the more wild nature of their creature side somehow making the magic behave in kind. Of course, Snape didn't mention any of this as he hoped Dumbledore wouldn't draw the connection. The longer they could keep Eljah's vampirism a secret, the better... for everyone.

"Minerva, I would appreciate it if you could also keep an eye on both Ms. Granger and the twins, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Weasley, since they seem to be close friends of Mr. Spring's," Dumbledore continued. "The same goes for you, Severus. Please do keep an eye on Mr. Malfoy and Ms. Parkinson."

"They haven't done anything, have they, Albus?" McGonagall wondered, clearly worried for her students, perhaps blaming Slytherins for pulling her Gryffindors into trouble. If only she knew.

"Nothing aside from the ordinary, Minerva. But we better keep a close watch on both Elijah and those surrounding him," Dumbledore explained. "There is more to that boy then what meets the eye."

Snape barely refrained from sighing as the now familiar headache came creeping, the headache that usually followed when he got involved and somehow had to solve or hide Elijah's problems and secrets. Clearly, Dumbledore was on to something, and Snape just hoped that Elijah's vampirism was what the old man was close to figure out, as the headmaster's believes in second chances and the good in everybody would most certainly make the old man want to _reach out a helping hand_ to _the boy in need_ so that he didn't feel _alone in the world_. However, if he found out of Elijah's true identity or his relationship with the Dark Lord, there was no guaranteeing what actions the headmaster and leader of the Order of the Phoenix would take.

"Severus, I know I asked just recently, but I don't suppose you've gained any new information from Voldemort?" Dumbledore asked, blue eyes inquiring, and Snape suspected that the old man wouldn't mind reading his mind had he not shielded it.

"No, the Dark Lord still keeps Potter isolated, and no one but himself is allowed to see him," he answered, the lie flowing flawlessly over his lips.

"And there's still no clue as to where Harry is being kept?"

"Not after he was moved when his health was assured, no," Snape agreed. The cover-up story was simple and kept close to the truth so that it wouldn't clash with actual happenings. For example, Snape had been allowed to attend to Potter's health in the beginning of his capture, but then he'd been moved and now no one was allowed to see him - which was in a way true, since no one saw Potter these days; they only ever was Elijah.

"Am I to assume that Voldemort still hasn't told of his intentions for the boy?"

"Yes, headmaster."

Dumbledore nodded, a troubled expression on his face. So far, he hadn't figured out the connection between the playful, seemingly untroubled Elijah Spring and the captured Harry Potter, the boy who was supposed to save them all.

Unfortunately, _so far_ was the key word.

XXX

Harry had found his friends in the common room after having peeked into the Great Hall that had been as good as empty, Luna having waved absently to him from the Ravenclaw table. Now, Harry and the others occupied the couch in front of the fireplace where a crackling fire danced, eating away on the wood. Draco was reading some potions text, most likely for the essay they had assigned for Wednesday, the book held loosely in one hand and the elbow resting on the armrest of the couch, his other hand occupied with scratching Harry's scalp as the blonde Malfoy heir had picked up on his darkened mood as soon as he'd returned from the meeting with Dumbledore. Harry had told them of what had happened and of the detention he was to serve with Ronald, bringing out collective groans of sympathy. Letting himself collapse to the side, he'd unintentionally ended up with his head in Draco's lap, and the scratching that had started to calm him had exterminated any thought of moving out of the way.

Now, he was spread out over the couch, half asleep with a drowsy eye open to watch Teo and Blaise as they played wizard chess, now and then giving one of them a tip that unexceptionally led to loss, making them groan and glare at him as they lost one peace after another due to him. Pansy was laughing at them where she sat on the floor by the couch, fiddling with his hands. Whatever she was doing, Harry didn't have the energy to care enough to turn his head to look, and whatever it was it couldn't be worse then the pink hair the Weasley twins had given him in the beginning of the term.

Lazily rubbing his cheek against Draco's leg, the hand in his hair stilled for a moment before continuing its scratching, and Harry found himself yawning, tilting his head back a bit as he did so... and feeling something hard poke him in the back of the head. The hand in his hair stilled again and Harry blinked a few times before he concluded what it was he had butted his head against. Turning his head to look up at Draco, he found that the blonde indeed did hold the book at a comfortable reading angle, but his grey gaze was locked onto the page, unmoving and most definitely not reading.

"Don't fall asleep while reading, Draco. What if you drop the book in my head?" Harry teased in an innocent tone, intentionally rubbing his head against the other's crotch and making the hand in his hair tighten on blond locks as Draco's breath hitched and he sent a dark glare in Harry's direction. The hitch in breath caused Pansy to look up from where she'd for some reason been blowing on Harry's fingers, and a grin spread over her face as she realized Draco's _difficulty_.

"Yes, Draco, you really should go ahead and sleep. Think of what might happen to Elijah's wonderfully innocent head if you were to drop the book on him?" she sing sang gleefully. "You too, Elijah. You're practically asleep already," she continued, her eyes gleaming darkly.

"Erm, hu...?" Harry asked incoherently, blinking rapidly as he tried to clear his sleepy mind, his blue eyes widening as he realized what her objective was. _That_ had _not_ been his plan when he started teasing Draco.

Draco, on the other hand, seemed to agree completely with Pansy for once, and pushed Harry up into a sitting position before rising, taking him by the arm and pulling him along towards the dorm.

"Hey, where are you going?" Blaise shouted after them, and it was left to Pansy to come up with an explanation as Draco slammed the door behind them and pushed Harry up against the hard wood, Draco's body pressed flush against his and his hard on poking his abdomen.

"Hey, Draco, this-!"

Lips sealed his mouth shut, Draco's tongue taking advantage of his already open mouth as it went in over his lips, pressing down on his own tongue as if to show who was on top. A hand cupped the back of his neck and another was placed on the small of his back, pressing them together as if trying to meld them into one, the hand on his back soon moving to cup his awakening erection, causing Harry to moan into Draco's mouth, his hands coming up to grab his pale hair. As the initial shock wore off, Harry found himself grinding back, hormones, adrenaline and pleasure hot in his veins as his breathing grew laboured.

Pulling back to give them both a chance to catch their breaths, Draco broke the kiss and smirked at the flushed boy before him, his own pale face having gained some colour as well.

"This is your fault for teasing me," he said, slightly out of breath, silver eyes gleaming with lust as he rubbed against Harry's clothed erection, making the slightly smaller teen gasp and let his head fall back against the door with a muted _thunk, _his mouth open as he beathed raggedly. Draco leered down at him, clearly thinking himself in charge, and Harry narrowed his eyes, unwilling to give in that easily. Extracting a hand from Draco's hair, he sneaked it in between their bodies and grabbed the other's erection through his pants, much like Draco was doing to him. He was immediately rewarded as Draco's eyes fluttered and his mouth fell open, releasing a breathy moan that made Harry smirk in satisfaction.

Silver eyes soon snapped open and they stared at each other, groping one another as both panted in the otherwise silent dorm. There was something deep and wanting in Draco's eyes, desire and lust swirling in their depths that made Harry's breath hitch, distracting him to the point where he didn't notice Draco's hands moving as they unbuttoned his pants, and then they were inside, naked skin meeting oversensitive, throbbing flesh and stroking, the raw pleasure shooting up his spine and making his legs give out, sending them both down onto the floor, Harry leaning back against the wall and Draco kneeling between his legs.

Not wanting to be outdone, Harry quickly fumbled Draco's pants open and slid his hand inside of the other's black boxers, his hands stilling in hesitation for a moment as he'd never done anything like this to someone else before. Deciding it didn't matter, he quickly went by what he thought felt good when he touched himself, and they were soon rendered a panting heap with Draco leaning his forehead on Harry's shoulder as they let their teenage hormones take over and lost themselves in pleasure, their strokes uneven and sometimes stilling as they lost focus under the ministrations of the other.

Trying to reclaim control of the situation, Draco tilted his head to the side and planted butterfly kisses along Harry's throat, making the former Gryffindor's breath quiver, even as he felt those devilish lips smirk against his skin at his reaction. Enjoying the momentary control he had, Draco licked a long line along the length of Harry's throat, stopping to suck at his Adam's apple and relishing in Harry's breathy moan as he bent his head to the side to give Draco better access. Chuckling at the sign of submission, Draco latched onto the neck presented to him and suck hard before biting down and accidentally breaking skin, having every intention of leaving a mark.

"Draco," Harry groaned, squirming to get more for that delicious friction that Draco's hand caused, his eyes widened as he smelled the full, sweet scent of his own blood. His pleasure flooded mind didn't have time for warnings or protests, thought, and his eyelids soon slipped down to half-mast as he lifted one hand slick with precome, the other still stroking Draco's erection. Grabbing the platinum stands he pulled Draco's head back from his own neck and leaned forward, sniffing the pale neck and inhaling the clean scent of Draco's shampoo. Finding the right place he started wetting it with his tongue but stilling, hesitating as he realized that he was practically violating Draco as the pale blonde hadn't said it was okay.

"Go ahead," Draco's voice sounded right by his ear, warm breath washing down his neck. Then Draco squeezed his erection quite harshly before speeding up the rhythm of his strokes, and Harry groaned against his neck before penetrating the pale skin with his extended fangs, sweet blood with a slight hint of metal flooding his mouth as he sucked.

Breathy moans, hungry sucking and panting were the only sounds breaking the silence for a few minutes, then Harry extracted his fangs from Draco's neck to gasp as he orgasmed, and Draco followed soon after, falling forward to slump against Harry who leaned back heavily against the door, both of them panting silently as they came down from their height.

"Well that was good," Draco mumbled once his breathing had returned to normal and sat up straight, raising his hand to swipe his sweaty fringe from his forehead and grimacing as he found it sticky with cum.

Blushing madly, Harry mumbled a cleaning spell wandlessly, making them look at least unpresentable with their tousled hair and rumpled clothing instead of looking completely indecent.

"We better change to pyjamas and make ourselves ready for the night before Blaise and Teo comes in and wonders why we're not in bed already," Harry suggested, bracing a hand against the door to help himself up as Draco got up beside him, already busying himself with fixing his hair.

"Or worse - Pansy might come in to check on us," he said and shuddered, causing Harry to laugh.

His laugh died down when he remembered that Dreamless Sleep no longer worked, and he looked at Draco uncertainly, making the blonde raise his brows in question.

"After what we've just done, I can't see any reason to why you would be embarrasses now," he pointed out, and Harry gave him a weak smile in return, acknowledging that he had a point.

"Can I... Can I sleep with you again tonight?" he asked silently, feeling like some little kid running to sleep with his parents to escape a bad dream.

"Sure," Draco answered without hesitation, turning towards the bathroom. "Guess you sleep better with someone close?"

"Something like that," Harry agreed, letting Draco believe that he wanted to sleep with him only because the vampire in him wanted human closeness and not because he was trying to escape his nightmares, just like a kid.

**There you go! **

**Life's looking up again! :) I'm all better now, thought I got my parents ill instead (heh, sry about that... ^^') and my computer is working as it should even though I don't really trust it as much anymore, so now I'm writing again! XD And you know what? Mom got her hands on a pair of tickets to the Gala premiere of HP7 part 2, so I get to see it before everyone else! *****happy-happy dance* XD**


	25. Chapter 25

**Erm, yeah, so my computer broke down again... It seems I did right not to trust it :/ But now we've fixed it, so everything's working again! :)**

"Oh, come on, Draco! I really can't see what the big deal is!" Harry said, exasperated.

"It's a disgrace to the Slytherin house," Draco hissed in response, Harry's wrist in a safe grip as he pulled him through the dank dungeon corridor towards the Great Hall. "The pink hair was at least just a joke on your expense, but to pull the Slytherin house into it? That's just taking it one step too far!"

Harry just sighed in response as they left the winding corridors behind and entered the Entrance Hall, a few students milling about by the great double doors leading to the outside world that was slowly turning from late summer to autumn. The students turned in surprise to look as Draco pulled Harry past them, a dark expression on the face of the prideful heir as Harry simply smiled in slight amusement and waved with his free hand as they marched across the hall, a hint of green and silver flashing in the light as he did so. When they stepped into the Great Hall, the tables were already as good as filled with chattering students, checking their schedules for the day and complaining over one lesson or another. Some owls still circulated over the tables, the enchanted ceiling over them clouded as they searched for students who had perhaps not yet arrived, but most owls were already sitting on shoulders or arms around the hall, being fed as the letters they'd brought with them were being read.

As Draco marched towards the Gryffindor table with determined steps, Harry let himself be pulled along behind him, his smile widening as he spotted the twins where they were discussing Quidditch with Lee Jordan.

"Do you need saving, o fair damsel in distress?" Fred shouted after them, but Harry just grinned at them and shook his head as answer.

They didn't stop until they'd reached about the middle of the table's length, where Hermione and Ginny sat with a few girls from Ginny's year that Harry recognized from having seen in the common room but didn't know the names of. They all looked up in surprise as Draco cleared his throat to attract their attention, and Harry smiled apologetically at Hermione's confused look. No one was surprised about Harry being there since he wandered over from the Slytherin table quite, but no one had ever seen Draco Malfoy, who was in a mutual relationship of hate with most Gryffindors, walk over to the red table willingly before.

"Erm, good morning Elijah, Malfoy," Hermione said after a moment of awkward silence.

"Morning, Hermione!" Harry answered cheerfully and attracted a dark glance from Draco as if the blonde couldn't understand why Harry didn't take the situation seriously.

"Granger," Draco greeted rather stiffly in return. "What do muggles use to clean off nail varnish?"

The mixed looks of shock, disbelief and confusion that were turned towards Draco as the Gryffindor girls stared at him, flabbergast, made Harry laugh out loud, and he immediately attracted another glare from Draco.

The madness had begun when Harry had woken up and found his nails painted, green and silver on every other nail in the exact right hue to create the Slytherin colours. It had taken him a while of mute staring before he remembered that Pansy had been doing something suspicious to his fingers the previous evening when he'd been laying on the couch, and a slow smile spread over his face, a smile that had morphed into a grin when he's woken Draco to show him what Pansy had done.

Draco, on the other hand, had _not_ found it funny, and had immediately been on a quest to remove the nail varnish since it "disgraced the Slytherin house with its mockery". Several vanishing and cleaning spells later, along with a few cancelling spells, showed no difference to the colour adoring Harry's now manicured nails, and Draco had become more and more stubborn to succeed with each failed attempt. Apparently, going to Pansy was admitting defeat, so Draco had decided anything was allowed - which was why they were now standing before Hermione and looking for the muggle way of removing nail varnish.

"Look Hermione!" Harry exclaimed, grinning happily and extending his free hand to splay out his fingers and show off the green and silver nail polish.

"Do you have a way to remove it?" Draco asked, a hint of impatience creeping into his voice.

"But why remove it?" a familiar voice exclaimed from behind, the twins having crept up on them without being noticed which was a feat in itself with their brightly orange hair.

"Oh, now I see, Gred!"

"Yes, Forge, if it looks like _that_, it really has to be removed!"

The twins looked at each other and nodded in complete understanding, some kind of silent conversation going on between them before they turned to Harry with identical, mischievous grins.

"O fair damsel in distress, let us knights in shining armour save you of this horrid staining that taints your nails," Fred said in fake seriousness as he took the hand Harry held out towards Hermione and bowed over it to press a feather light kiss to the back of his hand before he passed it on to his twin.

"Let us knights in shining armour turn this discoloration into sometime truly embellishing," George murmured against Harry's hand before kissing it, and then he pulled out his wand to swish it over the painted nails in extravagant and exaggerated motions that would fit a wizard from some muggle movie.

"Look at this truly wonderful piece of art!" Fred exclaimed as if overwhelmed, making it sound as if he was talking about a painting worth millions.

"Yes, it warms my heart to know that we have succeeded yet again!" George agreed, not specifying what they'd succeeded with while he held up Harry's hand for everyone to see. The green had been exchanged for deep crimson and the silver had gained a golden blush, turning the Slytherin colours into the warmer colours of Gryffindor. The sight made Ginny snicker and a smile pulled at Hermione's lips, even thought she tried to keep a serious face. Draco stared at the nails with a face of disgust and horror, but at the same time he seemed unable to decide if it was really that bad - at least they didn't mock the Slytherin house anymore - which left him torn as he tried to figure out if the change was a positive one or not.

"Wonderful!" Harry exclaimed happily, grinning and letting his eyes slide over the quite big group of students around them that was watching while trying to conceal their laughing or, more usually, laughing out loud without caring if it became obvious that they'd been listening in.

As Draco's grip on his wrist had loosened, it was easy to free his other, unchanged hand free and hold it up beside the other, to show the spectators how the different colours of his hands clashed.

"Does this make me a hybrid or something?" he asked happily and Draco groaned beside him, obviously giving up as he put a hand over his eyes and tilted his head back, seemingly begging the ceiling of the Great Hall for patience and strength.

While the others laughed, Harry watched his two hands with their different colouring, a smile on his lips and a thoughtful look in his eyes. One hand Gryffindor, one hand Slytherin, much like he somewhat belonged to both houses.

Maybe he wasn't just a Slytherin or just a Gryffindor.

Maybe he was a mix, a bit of both.

XXX

Strengthening up from his position of leaning over a dictionary and a parchment filled with clumsily scribbled runes, Harry leaned back over the back of the chair and stretched, his hands reaching back over his head as he yawned, the vertebras popping delightfully. The day had been quite peaceful, without any major events except for when he'd taken a Puking Pastille in Defence class, causing him to turn quite spectacularly green in the face before he'd made a dash for the loo, a hand covering his mouth to stop himself from actually throwing up. Swallowing the white half of the pill had been a challenge, but he'd somehow managed and been spared from wasting an hour and half of his life with reading under Umbridge's watchful eyes. The twins had been exhilarated when he'd told them at dinner, and they'd said that they'd solved the problem with the Nosebleed Nougat and that they'd already sold a few pills to some students in Gryffindor.

He was now sitting in the library with Hermione sitting opposite him by the table they'd occupied by a high, arched window that showed the clouded world outside, a few gaps between the clouds showing the blue sky and letting rays of light shine through, piercing the gloom that tried to conquer the world. The table between Harry and Hermione was a fairly big one, two empty chairs standing unused to the side, yet it was filled with papers and books, tables and graphs, all of which they were using - or trying to use, in Harry's case - to decipher the text they'd been given by professor Babbling.

"Are you done?" Hermione asked without looking up from the graph she probably had no problem of understanding, even thought Harry had to take his time before he could translate it to something even remotely understandable.

"You kidding me?" he answered with a smile, suppressing another yawn that wanted to break free. "Firstly, it's due to Friday so we've still got time. Secondly, you're not done, so how could I possibly be?"

Hermione glanced up at him with a slight smile, before looking down at the graph and nodding to it, as if they'd been communicating and she now had some kind of agreement with the parchment.

"As a matter of fact," she said and strengthened, taking her essay and fanning it in the air to make the ink dry. "I just finished."

Harry groaned tiredly and slumped forwards with his elbows on the table and his hands rubbing his face. "You're unbelievable," he grumbled, and was rewarded with a happy "Thank you" from the other side of the table.

For a few minutes silence rested between them, a comfortable and companionable silence that was only disturbed by the ruffling of Hermione shuffling papers as she tried to impose order on the mess they'd created, and Harry silently massaged his fingers into his temples, slowly working away the headache that inevitably formed whenever he put an honest effort into understanding the runes.

"Elijah," Hermione mumbled hesitantly after a while and Harry hummed to show that he was listening. "You... you know about Dark Arts, don't you?" she asked silently, lowering her voice until Harry could barely hear her.

Harry lowered his hands and let them fall to the table as he slowly looked up, feeling surprisingly calm though slightly suspicious, wanting to know what Hermione was after before he relaxed completely. He did, however, give a slow nod, since it would have been useless to try to deny his knowledge of Dark Arts - as a follower of the Dark Lord, Hermione would naturally expect him to know Dark Arts.

"I... don't know all that much about it," Hermione said, and it was obvious that it was hard for her to admit there was something she didn't know about. "I know about the Unforgivables, of course, but apart from that, I don't know what defines... it."

Harry gave her a sight smile at her caution, and thought back on the conversation he'd had with Tom where he'd been the one to ask about the very same thing. "They're harder to ward against and more efficient, stronger, which means that when they're used for bad things, the outcome is _really bad_," he summarized quietly. "They don't have to do bad things, though, and even if the effect of the spell might be bad, it can be used in good ways. For example, he taught me a shredding spell that can trash anything to bits and pieces that can't be fixed with magic. I won't deny that it can be used to kill, but it's really just a spell that destroys, so how is it different from _bombarda maxima_ except for that fact that it can't be repaired?"

Harry meant for the question to be rhetorical, but Hermione answered anyway. "They're scared of what they can't fix. The though that there's something irreversible frightens them. It's a matter of staying in control..." she mumbled thoughtfully, and Harry slowly nodded, admitting that her reasoning was just as sensible as always. Then her eyes focussed on him, their eyes meeting and gazes locking. "_He_ taught you?"

Realizing that he might have said too much but unwilling to back down, Harry gave another slow nod. "I was willing," he said, not sure why he felt the sudden need to defend Tom. Hermione held his gaze silently for a moment, seemingly wanting to make sure that that was indeed the truth, but then she nodded.

"What is _his_ view of _them_?" she asked curiously, surprising Harry. Didn't she, just like everyone else on the "light" side, think that Tom was mad and used Dark Arts for evil only? Apparently not, or she was at least willing to listen with an open mind if Harry was to say otherwise.

"He told me that he can't understand why people are prejudiced against it, when it isn't something evil in itself," Harry recalled. "I think... I think he views it much like he views magical creatures. A vampire or a werewolf could use their strength and enhanced senses to benefit themselves or cause pain to others, but they can also chose not to, to use their abilities to do good, even. It's the same with _it_; you can do bad things with it, but you can also choose to do good."

Hermione sat silent for a moment, looking much as if she was still listening to him even though he'd stopped talking, all the while chewing absentmindedly on a brown lock of hair that had fallen into her face. After several silent minutes, she spit the hair out and mumbled "He seems more sane and reasonable then we've been told he is."

The observation made Harry blink in surprise, but he nodded all the same, confirming that Tom wasn't the crazed wizard Dumbledore had claimed he was. Hermione simply stared at him for a moment, her eyes contemplating as she thought.

"Harry never called him crazy either," she mumbled and then hesitated, as if she really didn't want to utter the thoughts that were on her mind. "But Dumbledore..."

"I told you, Hermione," Harry said quietly when she fell silent without finishing the sentence. "He isn't all the things you think, even thought life feels simpler when you can lean on him."

Hermione slowly nodded, almost as if she agreed against her will. "I thought about a lot of things over the summer, things about Dumbledore and-" She swallowed and looked away, her voice slightly raspy when she continued. "-and Harry."

Harry watched her quietly, hiding the surprise and wonder he felt since he'd thought they'd all forgotten or ignored him over the summer, and know she said she'd worried about him. Instead of showing his feelings, he gave her a quietly encouraging nod, and she swallowed before continuing, her eyes swiping the library to see if anyone was close enough to hear them.

"It's just strange, that Dumbledore would... that he would..." she cut herself off and shook her head. "I really shouldn't be telling you this," she whispered.

"You don't think I can keep a secret, Hermione?" he asked with a slight smile, knowing that a bit of hurt shone thought his blue eyes, letting her know that her distrust pained him.

Brown eyes shifted between his blue, watching him intently, searching. Then she sighed, and quietly asked "Do you know... where Harry was sent over the summer and why?"

"To his relatives because there were bloodwards around the house that would protect him," Harry answered while hiding the bitterness that bubbled to life at the thought of the _protection_ he'd received.

"Yes," Hermione agreed, and if she was surprised that he knew, she didn't show it. "A _bloodward_, which involves _bloodmagic_. I researched it during the summer, and the wards could not _possibly_ have been working after You-Know-Who took Harry's blood at the graveyard, and Dumbledore knew that Harry was mistreated at his relative's and _hated_ going there - we all knew that. So why did he sent him back there?" She shook her head as if frustrated with herself, as if she couldn't forgive herself for not having figured it out, and she was frowning when she looked back at Harry.

"What if Dumbledore knew all that but sent him back anyway... deliberately?" Harry suggested quietly, raising his brows.

"But why would he do that?" Hermione countered, disbelief in her voice as she obviously didn't want to think of these things, didn't want to think the things she thought, but she couldn't stop herself, her hunger for knowledge driving her on. "To do that deliberately would mean that he didn't care for Harry's wellbeing at all!"

Harry simply nodded in agreeing, not saying anything, but Hermione still paled. Then she shook her head abruptly and stood from her seat, the books and parchments gathered in her arms. Before she turned away and left, she hesitated and looked at him with uncertainty, then shook her head weakly one last time.

Watching her leave, Harry realized he'd gotten her to think, to look past her barriers of "knowledge" of who Dumbledore was, and maybe, just maybe, she would reach the same conclusion that he had; that Dumbledore used his fatherly and caring facade to get people to do what he wanted them to, when he didn't really care for them at all. The manipulation and deceit was worse then the one Voldemort used, since he didn't hide it as well, partly because everyone expected him to be manipulative, someone you couldn't trust.

Dumbledore, on the other hand, you trusted. You were willing to believe what he believed and to sacrifice everything for it - until you realized the truth and your whole world was cast into chaos.

XXX

The rest of the week passed peacefully from there on, the stories of people using pills to skip class quickly spreading and multiplying as more and more students bought pills from the twins. Apparently, the twins specifically recommended using the pills to avoid Umbridge's lessons, since Harry soon heard stories of Defence lessons that turned into chaos as half of the class fell sick, claiming it was the "Umbridge-itis" that some ingenious student had made up, and the rest of the student body had picked up on the name and now used it frequently to avoid Defence Against Dark Arts. Harry used it as well when their Thursday lesson came, and Draco, Teo and Pansy had to make joint efforts to "take care of" him and Blaise, as they'd both taken half a pill of Fever Fudge to disable themselves from attending.

The pills weren't used as plenteously in other classes though, and the teachers seemed to find out the truth about the sudden sickness so quickly it was scary, which soon made it close to impossible to use the pills to avoid Transfiguration and Potions since McGonagall and Snape would simply tell the ill student to take the other half of the pill and quit disturbing the class. However, the teachers seemed to have "forgotten" to enlighten Umbridge of this, as she remained none the wiser of the pills' existence.

Harry hadn't realized, however, how strong the teachers' dislike for the pink toad was until McGonagall came across them when the Weasley twins were giving him new pills. They stood in an empty corridor during lunch hour, when the majority of the school's population was located in the Great Hall, and hadn't expected anyone to find them, therefore lacking their usual caution as George handed over a familiar miniature flask with pills in, which Harry by now easily identified by their colouring. Just as he reached to take the bottle, McGonagall rounded the corner and stopped to take in the picture in front of her, which was far more revealing then could possibly be necessary. The three students froze, staring at the stern professor, not even Fred and George trying to worm their way out of the situation.

"I assume those are the pills used to cause Umbridge-itis?" McGonagall asked after a tense moment of silence.

"Yes, professor," Harry answered quietly, not seeing any reason to lie. He took the flask from George's hand and put it in his pocket defiantly, giving McGonagall a challenging look, silently questioning what she was going to do about it.

"If I ever suspect that you have used those pills in Transfiguration, the consequences will be most severe," she warned sternly, giving him a pointed look as she pursed her lips.

"Of course, professor," Harry agreed, seriousness in his gaze. "I wouldn't expect any less."

A rare, slight smile touched her lips for a moment, and she nodded to him as if crediting him for something. "Good, then I wish you a good evening, boys. Please do carry on."

As soon as she'd left, once again disappeared out of sight around the corner, the twins turned to each other with identical grins on their freckled faces.

"Wicked!" they chorused, and Harry agreed with a smile.

XXX

It was Friday and their last lesson for the day, before the weekend could begin and they could sleep as long as they wished and only had to concern themselves with school enough to get homework and essays done. Most looked forwards to spending their days outside in the last of the late summer sun, as October had arrived and with it the weather had become more chilled, as if someone up there kept track of the calendar and saw that it was time to begin with the autumn more seriously now that September had come to an end.

Harry stood by the workbench squashing boom berries to get as much of their restorative juice out of them as possible before he added them to the simmering potion that stood beside him, just a few ingredients added so far and the potion therefore nowhere near the deep purple colour it was supposed to have when finished. To his defence, they were only 20 minutes into the lesson and still had 40 minutes to go, so it wasn't as if he needed to hurry. In fact, a quick glance around the room showed that most of his classmates hadn't made it as far as he had, and when he happened to meet Snape's gaze, he was rewarded with a small nod of acknowledgement.

With a slight smile on his lips, he returned his attention to the potion, meaning to prepare the rest of the ingredients while the potion simmered a few required minutes. However, he only had time to clasp the knife before a sweet, thick scent hit him, his whole body freezing in place as the sweet smell ensnared him in a ruthless grip. He distantly heard Snape order someone to "take the other half of the pill and stop making a bigger fool of herself then she already was just because she couldn't make a potion properly", but the clipped tone of the potions master seemed to come from far away, and even thought he clearly heard the words, he couldn't comprehend their meaning.

The instincts of his vampire inside told him to attack, to launch himself at the human who was gushing blood in front of him _on purpose_, practically offering the blood to him. His breathing grew ragged, his chest heaving, his upper lip lifting as his fangs lengthened, his nostrils flaring and his eyes widening, his gaze slowly moving to the blood dripping from a workbench on the other side of the room to splat onto the floor where a small pool of red liquid was gathering, calling out to him.

XXX

Draco sighed when Millicent burst out in nose blood and rolled his eyes as it was painfully obvious that she'd caused the attack herself by taking Nosebleed Nougat. Why she even bothered trying was beyond him, even if she was horrible at brewing potions, since it was no longer possible to fool Snape with the pills. Disregarding the minor chaos she was creating, even as Snape snapped at her to take the other half of the pill that would make her better, he turned back to his potion with every intention of finishing it while ignoring the tumult on the other side of the classroom.

Hearing a knife clatter onto the workbench beside his own, he glanced sideways to see what had happened, mostly to assure that he wasn't in any way endangered by the disasters that regularly broke out during Potions, and spotted Elijah standing rigid by his potion, his blue eyes having attained a wild, animalistic edge as his gaze was locked onto the blood dripping from Millicent's workbench.

_Oh shit_, was the first thought that crossed his mind, the kind of thing he would never say out loud since it was below him, but in the sanctuary of his mind where no one would hear his thoughts, they were allowed to live and take whichever form they wanted. Then he put his hand over Elijah's mouth and nose to dull the scent of blood he must be smelling, and threw his free arm around his waist, pulling the slightly shorter teen against his own chest to keep him from the dripping blood that must be oh so tempting, which was proven by the fact that his vampiric side seemed to have taken control completely, the lust for blood pushing the more human side of Elijah aside.

Elijah froze in his arms, every muscle in his lithe body tense and ready to act so that he'd be able to break free from Draco's grip that was keeping him from the dripping blood. Then he took a deep breath, his breath ghosting between Draco's fingers, and his tense muscles relaxed once he recognized the smell of Draco, a smell he undoubtedly _should_ recognize since he'd given his blood willingly twice and... well, done other things as well. Elijah didn't remain still for long, however, as he soon attempted to turn around, undoubtedly wanting to get to Draco's pale neck where it'd be easy to get to his blood instead of Millicent's.

"Soon," Draco promised in Elijah's ear, feeling the vampire relax slightly at the realization that blood wouldn't be denied him. Then he turned to Snape, who was quite busy snapping at Millicent who still hadn't taken the other half of the pill.

"Professor? Elijah's got a phobia of blood, so can we...?"

Black eyes turned to them, one of them twitching slightly as the potions master realized what was happening, and then he jerked his head towards the door before he turned his black glare to Millicent again. Hoping that no one had managed to take in the state Elijah was in and figured something out from that, Draco quickly led the vampire out of the classroom and a bit down the corridor until they reached a narrow tapestry showing an old woman looking much like a seal who was drinking tea from expensive-looking china. Draco pushed the tapestry aside unceremoniously, making the seal-woman give an undignified yelp, but Draco ignored her as he pulled Elijah into the hidden, narrow staircase that lay behind the tapestry.

As soon as the tapestry had fallen back into place behind them, darkness settled over them and he relinquished his hold of Elijah since this was a good a hiding place as any, except for one of their beds in the dorm, but they didn't have the time to go there - or rather, Elijah's vampire didn't have the patience to go there. He abruptly found himself pressed against the wall, Elijah's hands clutching his shoulders much like claws would and holding him in place so that he wouldn't have been able to escape if he'd wanted to. He glimpsed animalistic need and wildness in those blue eyes, all the usual innocence gone without a trace, and felt a thrill run down his spine at the notion that he was at the mercy of a wild vampire that was, quite obviously, all but submissive.

Their momentary eye-contact was broken as Elijah tilted his head to the side and took a sniff of Draco's neck, the tip of his nose lightly tracing the vein pulsing just under the pale skin, and Draco could feel his pulse speed up as his heart beat madly in his chest and he waited with exhilaration for whatever was to come. He leaned his head to the side to show submission to the vampire and grant better access, and gained a growl of possessiveness in return before a tongue darted out to wet his skin, quickly going from gentle probing to lapping. Draco found himself biting his bottom lip to stop himself from making any embarrassing sounds, unused to be the one on the receiving end of pleasure like this as he tended to be the one who lavished attention onto Elijah, always being the one to initiate their wanking sessions.

The tongue soon withdrew and Draco felt a slight prickling as if needles were being held against his neck, and then Elijah bit down, his fangs penetrating Draco's pale skin and finding the targeted vein, lips sealing around the bite to prevent any leaking blood from escaping and being spilt as the blonde started sucking greedily, his tongue rubbing lightly to rouse the blood flow. Gasping, Draco sagged against the wall and his head fell limply to the side in complete submission, leaving himself at the mercy of a hungry vampire. The danger only made it all the more exciting, thought, and Draco shivered, his eyes slipping shut and his body weak to the point where Elijah was the one holding him up, stopping him from sliding to the floor in a boneless heap.

Seeing as he wasn't about to resist, Elijah moved his hands from his shoulders and let them wander inwards to fleetingly caress his collarbone before firmly stroking down his sides, a shiver wrecking his body at the resolute touch that quite clearly showed who was in charge. An involuntary gasp broke free between his lips when Elijah grabbed his hips and thrust his own hips forwards, grinding his erection against Draco's awakening one, lips and tongue relentlessly working on his neck all the while, causing him to moan. He soon found himself tangling his fingers through long, blonde stands that had escaped the ribbon usually holding them, and he wasn't quite sure how his hands got there but he didn't have anything against it as it gave him the opportunity to pull Elijah closer while wishing he would free Draco's hips so that he'd be able to grind back, wanting to get more of the delicious friction between them.

A possessive growl vibrated in Elijah's throat, making Draco moan yet again as the vibrations travelled to his own neck, and then Elijah pressed himself closer, the grinding growing more frenzied as they both neared completion. It didn't take long until they both came, gasping and shivering as they orgasmed, and Draco moaned again when Elijah extracted his teeth to rest his chin on Draco's shoulder, his forehead leaning against the cool stone of the wall and his laboured breathing washing over Draco's oversensitive neck. Now that the adrenaline and the haze of pleasure were withdrawing, leaving him slightly shaky, Draco realized it was good that they'd stopped since he felt rather light-headed and a bit dizzy, no doubt due to blood loss.

Their panting filled the silence of the hidden passage, their laboured breathing slowly evening out as they came down from their highs, their rapidly beating hearts returning to their normal rhythm. After a few minutes where they stayed immobile against the wall, Draco felt Elijah shift a bit as he lifted his arm before he rubbed the sleeve of his robe against Draco's neck to rid of the blood that had spilled.

"Sorry," he mumbled quietly, the words a mere whisper against Draco's shoulder.

"What for?" Draco mumbled in response, still not having recovered enough to move or do anything more taxing then speak.

"I..." he gulped, clearly uncomfortable with the topic."I lost control completely, and..."

"I can't say I mind," Draco answered with a slight smile, remembering the possessiveness and control that the vampire had radiated, its domination complete as it took what it wanted, giving pleasure in return. "A bit of variation is always good."

Elijah pushed back a bit, a hand against the wall to keep himself steady as he looked Draco in the eye, apparently searching for any clue that he might be lying. Seemingly content with what he found, he gave a slight smile in return and nodded, turning towards the opening that would let them out into the corridor on the other side of the tapestry.

Wanting to reclaim a bit of the control he'd so far had in their unusual relationship, Draco leaned forward and put a hand to the back of Elijah's neck, turning his own body to the side and pressing their lips together. They both moaned, pleasure easily roused in their still sensitive bodies, and Draco stroked a hand down Elijah's cheek as he darted his tongue out and swept it across Elijah's plump bottom lip. Another moan spilled from Elijah's lips, straight into Draco's mouth, but before he was able to respond to the sudden and unexpected kiss, Draco pulled back and went to the tapestry, a smirk on his lips as he took in the flush covering Elijah's face and the slightly stunned look in his blue eyes.

Blue eyes that still managed to look innocent, in spite of what they'd just done. The realization awoke his lust again, and for a moment he considered walking up to Elijah and trap him against the wall for a second time, then he took a step back and felt the tapestry against his back and swept a hand out to move it aside, the light of the corridor falling into their hiding place and dispelling the moment.

"Oh dear Merlin!" the seal-woman on the tapestry exclaimed breathlessly, her face flushed as she fanned it with her hand. "The strength of youth is really astounding! If you ever need to hide away again, don't hesitate to come here!" she giggled before slipping out of view, leaving tea spilled onto the table cloth.

**I'll be going to Spain with my parents for a week, so it might take a while before the next chapter comes out. You've been warned! :) On the other hand, "a while" is usually 5 weeks instead of 4 when it comes to me... ^^**


	26. Chapter 26

**I'm happy I could make some of you laugh in chapter 25! Thanks for all the ****smile-filled reviews! :D**

**Oh, um, did I say I was gonna me late with this? Well, apparently not ^^ **

Hermione sat in the wide staircase that led up to the upper floors from the Entrance Hall, her brown eyes locked onto the double doors leading to the Great Hall, intently watching the students lazily walking in and out, without any set direction or any persistent schoolwork that needed to be done right at the moment. A frown wrinkled lines between her brows, thoughtfulness and anxiety in the brown depths as she nervously chewed on a lock of frizzy hair. She was the very picture of worry, an imagined dark aura seemingly laying thick around her and making the passing students take a detour around her so as to avoid catching her gloom.

Elijah walked out of the Great Hall, his eyes as blue as ever and his blonde hair kept back by the blue ribbon, his whole being somehow radiating clam and carefreeness, making it impossible to think anything bad of him or suspect him of being anything but innocent and harmless. Hermione knew it was a façade, knew that a lot rested underneath the surface; darkness, danger and power, most of it undefined and faceless to her as she had no deeper knowledge or understanding of what recourses or knowledge he possessed. But there was also more to it, more then unknown powers residing under the façade, and Hermione had finally figured it out, searching for the answer to the nagging feeling that had followed her since she'd gotten to know Elijah a bit, the nagging feeling that there was something there, just before her, that she was missing.

"Moring Hermione!" Elijah greeted her happily, causing Malfoy to frown where he walked beside the blonde, yet she got a short nod in acknowledgement of her existence from the aristocratic boy. That was a wonder in itself, how Elijah had managed to turn the sneering ferret into being civil, and she hadn't heard any of the Slytherins call her a mudblood, something she knew she had Elijah to thank for.

"What's up?" Elijah asked as he walked up to her, a slight frown wrinkling his brows as he took in the dark aura and her worried look.

Hermione swallowed, her throat suddenly constricting as if some greater force was trying to stop her from doing this. But she needed to know the truth, needed to have the courage to face this head on and outright ask Elijah. If she chickened out now she'd never know.

"Could we talk for a bit?" she managed, her voice coming out strained and hoarse as she had to force the words over her lips. Her eyes flickered to Malfoy who stood just by Elijah's shoulder, hovering near, almost possessively. "Just the two of us?" she added, and silver eyes narrowed slightly in dislike.

"Um, sure," Elijah answered, slightly confused as he shrugged. "Guess I'll find you in the common room?" he asked, turned to Malfoy.

"Or the library, if I find I need some more extensive information for our Charms essay," he answered slowly, quite obviously unwilling to let Elijah out of sight.

"I'll find you," Elijah assured with a smile before returning his attention to his Gryffindor friend. "Where to?"

Hermione simply turned around and walked up the stairs, not trusting her voice or courage enough right then to say anything more then what was necessary, and she only glanced back over her shoulder once to check that the blonde Slytherin was actually following her, an innocent look of curiosity and confusion in his blue eyes. She led him through the corridors until they reached an empty classroom, but she only managed to open the door a few inches before moans and pants reached them along with the creaking of an overladen bench. Blushing furiously, she quickly but quietly closed the door again and hurried on to the next classroom, Elijah following at her heals, his face just as flushed as hears.

"Unbelievable," Hermione muttered under her breath, temporarily having forgotten her nervousness. "This early in the morning, just after breakfast, and without any locking charm!"

Elijah hummed in agreement behind her, and she glanced back to find a slightly amused smile on his lips, making her face burn even hotter. Thankfully, some of the anxiety that had pestered her all morning had lifted, and she felt her confidence awakening in her chest, strengthening her and making her more determined then ever before. Her hand was steady on the handle as she opened the door to a thankfully unoccupied classroom, and she let Elijah stroll in past her before she closed the door behind them and spelled it locked, quickly erecting privacy wards around the room. Her secrecy and caution made blue eyes turn to her in question, but she just gestured for him to take a seat and followed her own advise by taking the seat opposite the one Elijah had chosen so that they sat facing each other with nothing but air separating them.

The warm light of late summer sun filled the classroom, lighting squares of light on the floor, the pattern broken by benches and chairs. The sky was a deep blue with shreds of white clouds lazily drifting past, and underneath it all students where enjoying the weather on the green lawn of Hogwarts' grounds, gathering as much sunshine as possible before the autumn and the winter following thereafter.

Hermione took a deep breath and let the serenity of the view calm her before she looked deep into Elijah's blue eyes.

"Harry?" she whispered hesitantly.

Blue eyes widened, surprise and confusion mingling in them as his yaw slackened before he managed to gather himself and impose a frail layer of calm over his features, his eyes remaining swirling maelstroms of emotions.

"What about him?" he croaked, and Hermione sighed. Of course it wouldn't be that easy, and she hadn't expected it to be, but it would have been so much easier.

"You seem to know an awful lot about him," she pointed out carefully, gaining a blank look and silence as her reply. "How is that?" she probed.

"During the summer…" he began, his voice unsteady, but he never finished.

"Just during the summer? After You-Know-Who took him or before that? What about after the summer hols?" Her voice was gentle, persuasive, her gaze inquiring and friendly. "Because I think you seem to know too much about him to have met only just recently. Sometimes, it feels as if you know him better then I do, even though I've been his friend since first year."

Blue eyes that were the wrong colour drifted off to the side, no longer meeting her gaze, and the face with the wrong features was weary. He seemed to slump in the chair, as if all energy had left him, and Hermione couldn't stop herself from reaching out and grabbing his hands, holding them in a gentle but steady grip.

"How did you figure it out this time?" he whispered, defeated, and Hermione felt relief flood her being, lifting her high above the clouds and making her feel light.

"Well, it began with this irritating, nagging feeling that there was something I was missing, something that should be obvious," she began softly.

"Then I noticed how you seem to know people here at school and you're really familiar with some, like the Weasley twins and me, but also the professors. And then you defended me against Malfoy when he called me a mudblood!" she said, happiness and gratefulness in her voice.

"You also use You-Know-Who's name, which only a few dare to do, and you always seem to know a lot about Harry, like you're really familiar with him. So I started watching you, just a little now and then, and Merlin did I feel like a stalker!" She gave him a slightly shaky smile, and he answered with a smile so small she could barely see it.

"I noticed small things, things that no one would ever notice if they don't know you as well as I do. Your mannerism is much the same, gestures and other small things that I recognized; not to mention how you walk over and sit at the Gryffindor table as if you belonged! Your favourite foods haven't changed either. And… lately, when I've turned my head and glanced at you it feels as if I'm seeing Harry, even though my eyes tell me that you're blond with blue eyes.

"When I really thought about it, it was just so obvious! How you showed up just after Harry disappeared, and how you talk about Dumbledore as if you have trusted him even thought you don't anymore."

Blue eyes that should have been emerald closed, a look of immense relief lightening his features, and when Hermione reached out to him and embraced him in a hard hug of longing, his arms wrapped around her middle just as strongly. For several long minutes they sat there, the sun shining over them while they sat immobile as they pressed each other closer and closer, never wanting to let go out of fear that the other might disappear.

"Thank you," Harry whispered, his voice barely audible, slightly hoarse as if he was holding back tears. "Thank you for finding me."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione sighed and hugged harder, burying her face in his neck. "What happened to you?"

Her question was met with silence, and the chilled body in her arms tensed slightly, alarming her that something was wrong.

"Harry, what's wrong? Harry?" She gave a slight squeeze to show that she was there for him, hoping it would make him realize that he could trust her no matter what.

"I… I've already told you… most of it," he mumbled, the words getting stuck in his throat as he was obviously close to tears. "About the vampire and- and Tom."

Hermione let her eyes fall shut as she grimaced at her own stupidity, berating herself for thinking even for a moment that the fact that she now knew that Harry was Elijah's true identity would suddenly revert him back to his old self and make all facts she'd learnt of Elijah invalid. Of course he was still a vampire, and of course he had still turned from the "Light" side, and he was still the one who called You-Know-Who "Uncle Tom", as well as the one she'd gone to when asking for information about Dark Arts.

"Of course," she mumbled. "Of course, I know that. I just… didn't think about it, that's all," she said, well aware that she was trying to assure herself as well as Harry.

"But you're still my friend. Nothing can change that," she added resolutely, knowing by the tension in his body as well as because of the simple fact the she knew him that he would question whether she still was him as a friend or not.

"I'm still your friend, before anything else."

Hearing that, Harry relaxed in her arms, the tension running off him as he let himself lean fully into the embrace, relief and gratefulness rolling off him in waves, making it feel as if she'd actually be able to touch his feelings.

"Thank you," was his heartfelt whisper, and Hermione gave a light squeeze to show that she'd heard him.

A comfortable silence settled between them as they delighted in their reunion, and even though they'd been close to each other for a whole month now, more or less meeting every day, it felt as if they were truly together for the first time since last term. Hermione sensed that there was something that remained unsaid, something that Harry still wasn't telling, but she let it be as she didn't want to prey, didn't want to unsettle her friend now that they were finally together again. She also reasoned that he had the right to keep a secret since she was keeping secrets as well; she was, after all, not allowed to talk about the Order with anyone who wasn't accepted by Dumbledore.

"Promise not to tell anyone?" Harry asked quietly into the silence around them, their bodies still pressed close together, their arms wrapped around each other as they shared Hermione's body warmth.

"Of course, your secrets are safe with me – all of them," Hermione assured without a moment of hesitation. Feeling her curiosity probing her, she found herself having to ask; "Does anyone else know?"

Harry's grip loosened and Hermione disentangled her own arms to give him enough space to sit back a bit, but she still held her grip on his arms, unwilling to let go of him completely. With a slight smile on his lips, Harry returned the gesture and shifted so that their knees bumped together, bringing them close without having them clinging to each other.

"Tom knows, of course, as do Snape," he said, and Hermione felt her eyes widen momentarily before she could stop herself at the mention of the supposed spy who was believed to be loyal to Dumbledore and the Order. But if he had known all this time where Harry was, that he was in fact right under their noses, could he really be trusted since he'd repeatedly told the Order that Harry was kept confined in the Dark Lord's mansion?

If Harry noticed her inner suspicions, he didn't call her on it, just continued by saying; "Draco knows that I'm a vampire and that I'm with Tom, just like you before you found out that Elijah is just a glamour, so he doesn't know who I really am."

"Why don't you tell him?" Hermione asked before she could stop herself. "I mean, you seem really close now, so…"

"It would be… awkward. I've lied to him all this while, and…" Harry trailed off, clearly uncomfortable, but then sighed. "He's my blood donor, so to tell him that he's been giving his blood and have… you know… with his enemy…"

Brown eyes widened in understanding as Harry flushed and scratched his neck, tipping his head forward to hide his reddened face with a black frame that was no longer there.

"Oh," slipped from her lips as she felt her own face heat while she remembered what she'd read about feeding and how it affected vampires. But they wouldn't have done any more then feeding, would they? No, definitely not. Harry was… well, Harry, so he would never do that kind of thing, especially not with Malfoy.

The moment after she'd thought that, she felt like slapping herself for her stupidity. Malfoy and Harry were both hormonal teens, undoubtedly abandoning all use of their brains when aroused, and Harry would no doubt be easily persuaded if affected by the lust filled haze of blood. Not to mention that Malfoy wasn't directly bad looking, even though he looked a bit much like a ferret, and if his skills at manipulation was anything to go by, he would easily manage to get Harry into it if he just wanted to. And when you saw them together, which was pretty much always, it was painfully obvious that they were incredibly close.

But Harry… and _Malfoy_, together, doing-

She quickly cut that trail of thought, hoping her heated face wouldn't giver her away, and jumped at the first question that came to mind in order to change subject to something that would hopefully be safer.

"Are you sure you don't want to tell Ron?"

The look Harry gave her told her with unquestionable clarity that it was the most stupid question she'd ever asked him, and he even seemed a bit surprised by the fact the she'd ask him a stupid question – after all, "stupid" and "Hermione" didn't fit together without a negation involved somewhere.

"He hates me, Hermione," he said blankly.

"No!" she exclaimed, shocked by the thought that Ron would ever hate Harry. They were friends, the best friends ever, how could there possibly be hate between them? But then again, how else were you supposed to interpret Ron's behaviour towards Harry?

"He just… doesn't know who you are," she said weakly, trying to explain something she didn't really knew how to make forgivable. "You know how he is around Slytherins; you were the same. If he knew who you really are, that would make all the difference!"

"No, Hermione. I don't think it would," Harry answered wearily, a slight hint of pain and longing in his voice. "He's not as tolerant and forgiving as you are; he'd never accept that I've changed my mind about Tom."

Hermione opened her mouth, wanting to argue, to defend Ron and somehow make it seem as if everything would be as it had always been… but then she closed her mouth, a startling question hitting her at the mention of You-Know-Who, a question she should have asked in the very beginning of their conversation.

"Why didn't he just kill you when he found you?" she asked, bewildered as she couldn't imagine any reason whatsoever to why You-Know-Who wouldn't take the chance and kill an enemy that had escaped him several times, most recently only a few months ago.

"Because I'm a vampire," Harry answered, making it sound as if that simple answer would explain everything. "Since vampires are shunned by society, I guess he saw his chance to rid himself of an enemy and gain a new ally. To me, he said it was because vampires, as Dark Creatures, automatically falls under his care, but now that I think about it, I'm not really sure how much truth there is to that."

"And he treats you well?" she asked, needing to know, wanting to make sure that her friend wasn't threatened into staying with You-Know-Who, too scared to reach out for help.

"He isn't the crazy madman Dumbledore describes him as, Hermione," Harry said softly. "Sometimes, it's almost as if he cares about me."

She fell silent, not sure of what to answer to that, and for the first time she truly realized that Harry would never return to the Light, would never join the Order and would never fight against You-Know-Who in the upcoming war. And why would he? His greatest enemy, who'd tried to kill him ever since he was no more then a toddler, had turned into a friend, so why would he ever wish to be hostile against him again if it was avoidable? As long as he stayed on You-Know-Who's good side, he would stay clear of the threat that always seemed to hang over his head, he wouldn't have to fear being killed as soon as he let his guard down.

"I see," she mumbled to herself, not caring if Harry understood what she was talking about of not, as her mind continued turning these new facts over and over, processing them and drawing more conclusions. With this, it became obvious why harry couldn't go to Dumbledore since the Headmaster saw him as their saviour, their beacon of light. He would never let Harry stand back from the fight and stay neutral the way he most likely wanted. He would force Harry to fight, to become You-Know-Who's enemy again, put him in danger and burden him with a burden no one, least of all a fifteen-year-old boy, should have to shoulder.

He would use Harry as a weapon, whether Harry was willing to fight or not.

"How is everybody?" Harry suddenly asked, awaking Hermione from her thoughts and pulling her back to the presence, making her return her focus to him even as she realized how right he'd been when claiming that Dumbledore wasn't what she'd thought he was.

"Sirius is fine," she said with a smile, realizing that Harry must miss them all terribly and that he most likely felt guilty for making them worry about him. "He's hiding in an old house belonging to the Black family, but he doesn't like sitting around doing nothing." _Especially not now that you're gone and he wants to help searching for you_, Hermione silently added in her mind, but she didn't say it. "Dumbledore won't let him leave, thought, since he might be recognized and we don't want to risk him being hauled back to Azkaban.

"The Weasley's are all fine, but you already know that since you've met most of them here at school already.

"I haven't seen all that much of Remus…"

Harry listened intently as she told him of the people they knew, soaking up every detail with a distant look as if he pictured them before him. A small smile played over his lips, sometimes of merriment, sometimes of sadness and longing.

Silence fell between them once she'd finished, and she found Harry looking torn, a look of indecision on his face.

"Are they…?" he began, but had to stop to clear his throat and try again. "Are they… doing anything…against Voldemort?" he managed, and Hermione could feel his pain, the pain of being torn between two sides and being unable to chose one of them to abandon the other.

"They're all fighting," she answered quietly, gently, and Harry nodded with a pained expression.

"I wish I could sincerely wish them good luck," he whispered.

XXX

The pumpkin patch lay abandoned and mostly untended, wines twinning their way between the orange, plump bodies and weeds sticking up where enough sun reached. The windows of the hut were dark, the water barrel full to the brim with small insects paddling around on the surface among the leaves. No bark or scratching against the inside of the door could be heard, making the place seem more rundown and closer to collapse then ever, as if it was years and years since anyone had set foot on the hardwood floor inside. Years and years since Hagrid had last cooked rock cakes that broke your teeth in a bite.

The Forbidden Forest stretched out behind the hut, making it seem as if the small building of stone was the only thing keeping the massive, warped trees from spreading out onto the lawn and towards Hogwarts that towered behind them in dark silhouette against the clouded sky. A chill lay in the air, a cold breeze making the leaves of the forest rustle and the branches creak, playing an eerie tune from between the thick stems where the mist lay thick like an ever shifting cloak over the ground, hiding treacherous roots that reached out to trip you.

Harry pulled his cloak tighter around his shivering frame as he walked towards the hut and nuzzled his nose deeper into the knitted scarf that was wrapped in a thick layer around his throat, the scarf so wide it also hid half of his face, blue eyes peering over the moss green garment. He thrust his hands deep into the pockets of the heavy cloak, the fingerless mittens not enough to keep his hands warm against the chill, all the while silently cursing a vampire's inability to keep his body temperature since it now left him vulnerable against the cool autumn.

Professor Grubbly Plank waited by the hut, the wrinkles adoring her elderly face deepened by the shadows cast from the pair of lanterns she held in one hand, her pipe hanging from the side of her mouth, sending a thin trail of white smoke towards the sky. Ronald stood by her side, his knitted Weasley sweater with the R at the front apparently enough to keep him warm, his freckled face pale and his blue eyes repeatedly flickered towards the darkness of the forest that they were about to enter, his earlier visits in the depths of the woods seemingly not having lessened his fear as it had Harry's. A third lantern was held in his large hands, his grip so hard his knuckles were whitened as if his life depended on the light emitted by the fluttering flame – and maybe it would once they'd entered the darkness lurking among the trees.

"A lantern for you, Mr Spring," Grubbly Plank said, handing him one of the lanterns she held, and he regretfully extracted his hand from the relative warmth of the pocket where his cold fingers were at least protected form the chilled wind. Taking the lantern, he released a breath of relief as the warmth of the flame touched his hand, undoing the worst cold.

"I don't know how much the headmaster has told you boys, but there is something in the forest that arrived recently, and it quite clearly makes the other inhabitants restless and uneasy," she informed them soberly, as straight to the point as always. "Mr Spring, Mr Weasley, the two of you will be patrolling together, keep an eye out for anything unusual or any sign of what causes the unease. If you find anything, shoot green sparks from your wands and I'll come as fast as I can. If anything would happen or you come across any sort of danger, shoot red sparks. Any questions?"

Harry shook his head, not worried in the least since he'd been in the forest so many times it no longer held the frightening label of being part of the unknown, not to mention that he'd felt almost welcomed when he'd been there last time, as if he somewhat belonged among the Magical Creatures living there. Ronald, on the other hand, looked as if he was trying to come up with some good excuse that would allow him to skip detention and return to the safety of the castle, his mouth opening and closing without a word passing over his lips. Then his eyes darted to the forest once again and he closed his mouth, gulping audibly with a defeated look on his face as if he was walking towards his own doom.

The mist swirled around their legs as they walked past the first trees, obscuring their feet from view and making it harder to walk since it was easy to loose track of the path and end up with your foot in a rabbit hole if you weren't careful. Darkness closed around them, threatening to choke the flames from their lanterns as all light was blocked out by the warped trees that seemed to take the shape of living, threatening beings as the weak light played over them.

Harry kept his gaze straight ahead, locked onto Grubbly Plank's lantern which was their guide through the darkness, but even as he took note of every jump Ronald made when a brush rustled or some animal called in the distance, his thoughts were far away, straying back to the conversation he'd had with Hermione earlier that day. A slight smile played on his lips, a warm feeling blooming in his chest as he recalled her absolute friendship and trust, how she trusted him to go his own way even though she didn't agree with it and how she was willing to keep his secrets even if she most likely saw it would be better if they were revealed. Yet he wasn't ready to tell her of the fact that he'd killed Vernon, wasn't ready to face whatever reaction he would receive from her even thought she was now his closest friend, the one of all those around him who knew him the best, perhaps with Tom as the only exception.

"We will part ways here," Grubbly Plank stated as she halted before a thick tree that seemed to stand right on the path they'd been following, its bark rough with moss cloaking it, its branches warped and ending in sharp claws that seemed to reach for them, making Ronald take a step back so that he stood halfway behind Harry, hiding behind the smaller frame and glancing around into the darkness with wide eyes.

"Try to stay on the path," the aged professor advised before turning forward again and continuing down the path on the right side of the monstrous tree, the light of her lantern soon swallowed by the darkness, hidden from view among the trees and bushes, leaving the two teens alone.

"She really left us," Ronald croaked in disbelief from over Harry's shoulder, making Harry want to point out that they'd been taken to patrol the Forbidden Forest already in first year, but then again, Ronald had been the one walking with Hagrid at that time while Harry had been paired with Draco.

"I guess we'd better get going then," Harry said, starting off into the forest and walking past the warped tree on its left side, finding the soil under his feet to be solid with a soft layer of leaves cushioning his steps as the path divided and lead them on, only the difference in solidity and smoothness telling Harry that he was still on the path.

"What?" Ronald practically shrieked. "We should just say here so we don't get lost. I'm telling you, I've been in this forest before, and there are all kinds of scary shit in here, like giant spiders that eat you alive, and-"

"I know," Harry cut him off indifferently, not stopping as he slowly made his way along the path, walking a bit towards the left as he felt the ground straight forward softening when the path turned. After a moment of silence when the rustling of the trees and the slightly soggy crunch of leaves under his feet was the only thing sounding, rapid footsteps approached as Ronald decided it would be better to follow him then to stay and be left alone.

"I can't believe they're making us do things like this," the redhead grumbled, staying safely behind Harry's back, letting the blonde lead the way as they carefully made their way into the depths of the forest.

"Go find something that disturbs the rest of the forest? It's got to be something really bad if it can disturb the things living here," he continued, and Harry gave a noncommittal hum as response, not caring enough about his ramblings to actually answer.

"What if that thing we're looking for finds us? What then? It's almost as if they want us to die out here," Ronald rambled on, his voice gaining a pitch as he grew more nervous, a hint of panic seeping into his tone.

"Then Dumbledore would want us dead as well, as he was the one who gave us the detention," Harry pointed out, mostly in order to shut the redhead up since he was starting to tire of his fright induced drivel, his eyes all the while straining as he searched the darkness ahead of them, his feet feeling their way along the path. It was quiet among the trees, not even the slight rustle of leaves breaking the silence as the breeze didn't reach this far in, leaving a thick and seemingly impenetrable tranquillity.

"Hey, don't say those kinds of things about Dumbledore!" Ronald exclaimed in anger, his fright momentarily forgotten. "He's a great man, and a great wizard, and-!"

Harry stopped dead and turned around, clapping his hand over Ronald's mouth to silence him and making the redhead wince at the extra strength Harry had gained from drinking blood. Now that Ronald was quiet, complete silence settled around them. There was no rustle of movement from the bushes, no distant howl of chattering, no howl, no smatter of hooves or paws against the soil, no snapping of breaking branches. All was quiet, more silent then Harry had ever heard the forest, as if there were no living beings here, as if the habitants of the forest avoided this place, fled it because…

- because there was something there, something new that made them uneasy.

Seeing Ronald's face pale in the light of their lanterns, Harry swept around, his breath catching in his throat as he took in the long hair that was lit in dark brown by the lanterns and black eyes with a wild, animalistic glint in them, his body long and swept in a black robe. A dark smile that made Harry's hair stand on end and shudders race down his spine stretched the man's lips and he breathed in, taking deep breaths of the chilled air smelling of earth, moss and mouldering leaves…

Taking in their smells.

"My sweet fledging," the man said, his voice rough, his eyes locked onto Harry, roaming over his body. "You've finally come to me."

**So… cliffhanger? Heh, sorry, but I couldn't stop myself on this one ^^' I admit I'm feeling a**** bit evil, but not in a bad way *hides behind ****InsaneChickOfWriting*****-What, you said I could hide behind you! O,o **

**Actually, I've already written quite a bit of chapter 27 already, so it shouldn't take too long before it's finished :) **

**So… review? :)**


	27. Chapter 27

**Thank you for the wonderful reviews, some of you actually made me feel a bit bad about the cliffhanger ^^**** And Dellio? I feel bad for your roomie ;) **

The man took a step towards them, and the two teens instinctively stepped back, Harry throwing his right arm out without thinking to keep Ronald back and protect him, his old instincts kicking in and telling him to look out for his friends. The action proved to have the reversed affect however, as it drew the man's attention towards the redhead, his predatory smile widening as he sniffed again, animalistic, dark eyes locking onto the gangling form.

"You kept me waiting for so long, I was growing angry with you," the man said, his voice husky as his eyes darted to Harry to show that it was him he was addressing. "But you've bought a wizard for me to feed from, so you're more then forgiven, my sweet."

"_Feed_?" Ronald croaked, and Harry heard leaves crunch under his feet as the redhead stepped back further.

"Ron, _run_," Harry ordered, his voice steady, laced with a cold hatred that had made itself known the moment he'd set eyes on the man, the vampire. His own vampire was growling in his mind, its fury evident as the impulse to attack, bare his fangs and fight washed over Harry, threatening to take his senses with it. He recalled the humiliation, the helplessness, the disgust, the pain and the fear, but they didn't render him immobile and helpless as he'd thought they would; they fed the hatred, the fury, like fuel to a fire.

They gave him strength.

"What?" Ronald breathed behind him, uncomprehending, unable to understand as his brain didn't register what he was seeing before him.

"_RUN_!" Harry barked, and the lantern crashed to the ground behind him, its glass cracking and its flame dying as Ronald dropped it in his panic, his heavy feet thrumming against the soil.

The man took a step forward, as if meaning to take the hunt and follow the redhead, but Harry took a step to the side, blocking his way. His wand was humming in his hand, fitting perfectly in his palm, ready to do his bidding as a growl vibrated in his throat, his teeth showing as he bared his fangs at his sire, making the man pause and look at him in surprise as if he couldn't picture why Harry wouldn't be happy to see him.

"Come to me, my sweet fledging; I want to taste you," he said huskily and spread his arms as if expecting Harry to throw himself into his embrace. "Nothing can compare to your blood, so sweet, so strong, practically humming with magic."

He licked his lips, lust and desire lightening his eyes, and Harry snarled in disgust, revulsion making him shudder. Then the man was before him, moving with inhuman speed, his hand reaching out to caress Harry's face, desire in full bloom on his features. With just enough sense left to remember that he held his wand, Harry fired the first spell that came to mind, the shredding curse Tom had taught him. But the man was too fast, moving to the side, growling now that it was clear that Harry wasn't going to comply, his eyes darkening again and until no light but a small glint of desire remaining.

"You are my fledging," he whispered, his eyes narrowing. "You are to obey me."

"I would never obey you, you vile creature," Harry hissed in response, barely managing to dodge to the side as the man lunged himself at him, reaching out with his fingers bent like claws. Scrambling to his feet, Harry kept his wand trained at the rapidly moving form of the vampire as the man circled him, waiting for him to lower his guard.

Once again the man attacked, but this time, Harry was too slow, and his wand tumbled from his hand as they were both thrown to the ground, clawing and biting anything they could reach. A hand reached to grab his hair, and Harry stretched his neck to bite the arm, the blood of his sire warm and bitter on his tongue before the arm was ripped from between his teeth. Nails clawed at him, teeth scraping his shoulder but not penetrating his skin as he grabbed the man's throat with both hands and forced him to the side, causing them to roll and end with Harry on top where he dug a knee into the man's guts.

Hands reached up and grabbed his neck, fingers digging into the base of his skull, causing him to cry out in pain and throw himself to the side to free himself of the man's painful grip, but they soon threw themselves at each other again, their bleeding wounds healing even as they received new ones, their speed and animalistic strength beyond what any human could muster, but the older vampire was faster, stronger after many years of feeding of wizarding blood, and they both knew it. If they continued like this, Harry would loose.

The knowledge didn't stop him from fighting, and as they were both wizards, accidental magic soon crackled between the trees, uncontrolled and not entirely helpful as it tore at the ground by their feet and caused even the mightiest trees to creak as if they were to give in and snap under the magical pressure. Their speed and strength was further enhanced by the magic swirling around them, their fingers leaving tears like claws, but as they both gained the advantage, Harry was still the weaker one.

A sudden wind, whipped up by their magic, tore at his clothes and almost lifted him off the forest floor, the man crashing into him and wrestling him to the ground, teeth closing on his neck before he could stop his sire and a moan resounded from the man's throat at the taste of Harry's blood. Lashing out, Harry's hands joined over the man's back and scratched down and to the side, leaving five parallel gashes across his back and sides, drenching them both in blood as the man extracted his teeth to howl in pain. Bringing his knee up, Harry kicked the older vampire in the groin and to his disgust found the man half erect against his knee before he knocked him off of himself.

He pounced at the older vampire who lay on his back in the leaves, the ground now visible due to the wind that shrieked around them, his teeth bared and his own fingers bent like claws, the vampire inside claiming more and more control as the blood that seemed to be everywhere roused it while Harry's human side was weakened by pain and weariness. But the man seemed to have been ready for the attack as he grabbed Harry and threw him, causing him to crash into a tree, bark falling around him as he slumped to the ground among the roots, his vampire momentarily numbed by the sudden collision. Leaves singled from above as magic shook the tree, a bough crashing between Harry and his sire, slowing the older vampire's attack.

Without the instincts and impulses the vampire inside provided, Harry's brain remembered that he was a wizard and he reached his hand out and screamed "_Accio wand_!", the accidental and wild magic around them suddenly following his command as his wand swished through the air and smacked into his waiting palm.

His sire snarled furiously and pounced, all pretence of humanity having left him, the vampire's animalistic mindset too prominent to think the thought of reaching for his own wand even as Harry whipped his wand at the approaching form, pointed it right at his chest and felt a rush of magic as it swept through him.

"_Avada Kedavra_!"

The words were past his lips before he had the time to think, but the magic as well as the intent were there, and the awfully familiar jet of green light shot from the tip of his wand and hit his sire in the chest. The older vampire crumbled to the ground upon impact, landing short of his target.

Harry stared at the motionless form, his eyes wide, his wand still held high until he let his hand fall limply to his side, his mind completely blank, silent, the shock from what he'd done numbing him completely as his mind refused to process and acknowledge the brutal truth of what he'd done.

He'd killed, again, but this time it hadn't been an accident, it hadn't been the work of accidental magic. He had raised his wand at a man with the intent to kill and uttered the unforgivable words, and now the corpse lay before him, the wounds no longer healing as death depraved him of the ability to heal anything at all.

"Blimey."

Harry's head snapped to the side, and he found Ronald and professor Grubbly Plank standing just a few trees away, a deep gash ripped into the earth just before their feet by the accidental magic that had roared between the trees just moments ago, now gone to leave an eerie tranquillity in its place, a few leaves that had been ripped from their branches still dancing lazily towards the ground.

They were both pale as death, staring at him with wide eyes as if they'd never seen him before, and Harry could only imagine what he must look like; dirty and bloodied, with torn and ripped clothes showing wounds that were healing before their very eyes, not to mention the blood around his mouth from when he'd bitten his sire.

Did they see a monster, a murderer? Something from a nightmare, some unnamed horror?

When Grubbly Plank lifted her wand and pointed it at him, he didn't move. The numbness filled him, made him feel strangely calm and his body heavy, his limbs leaden. As she spoke the incantation, he looked her in the eyes, waiting, and when the spell hit him, all went dark.

XXX

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was known for its many secrets, with secret passageways hidden behind statues and tapestries, secret tunnels leading in and out of the castle, enabling you to sneak out unnoticed to the grounds surrounding the school or even to Hogsmeade. Then there was the labyrinth of corridors that filled the school, causing even seventh year students to get lost as they found themselves in a part of the castle they didn't even know existed. There were unknown and unexplored rooms and chambers, the Chamber of Secrets with its now thankfully dead monster, the Room of Requirement that provided you with anything you needed, the Black Lake with its mostly unexplored depths where the merpeople lived, the Forbidden Forest with its many dangerous inhabitants and many, many other secrets that the old castle and its magic contained.

But, Hermione realized, most of all, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was a place for gossip, where rumors spread like a fire through a dry forest at summer. Secrets were incredibly hard to keep, and the most secret secrets were always known to the mass in record time, much like when Harry had faced professor Quirrell and You-Know-Who for the first time.

This time it was much the same, though the hard facts were a lot fewer as they only had the observations of a few to spread among the students. Apparently, someone had seen three Aurors arrive earlier that evening, and they had been met by the headmaster already in the Entrance Hall. No one knew what had been said, but the four of them had soon left and someone claimed to have seen them disappear into the Forbidden Forest. About half an hour later, the headmaster and one of the three Aurors had returned, now accompanied by Ronald Weasley and professor Grubbly Plank, but Elijah Spring, who'd been on detention with Weasley, had not been with them.

The fact that Harry hadn't returned from the Forbidden Forest with the others highly worried Hermine and made her fear that his secrets had been found out, causing her to chew her lip worriedly where she sat with chin in hand at the top of the stairs outside of the portrait of the Fat Lady. It was after curfew but she figured she wouldn't be found there since the professors seldom patrolled the entrances to the common rooms, and she was waiting for Ron to return since he was with the Auror and professor Grubbly Plank in Dumbledore's office at the moment.

If she wanted to know what had really happened, she'd have to ask him since he was the one with the most information who was likely to tell her. Of course, every student of the Gryffindor house was likely to know of what had happened as soon as Ron had opened his mouth in the common room, and the rest of the school would know by breakfast the next morning, but she wanted to be the first one to hear it directly from her redheaded friend, before there was any risk that the story might be changed.

Hearing approaching footsteps she looked up, immediately alert, her teeth stopping their intent gnawing of her bottom lip as Ron came into view at the bottom of the staircase. Unable to stand the anxiety any longer, Hermione stood from her perch and ran down the stairs to meet him, making him look up in surprise with a rather startled expression.

"Blimey, Hermione, nearly gave me a heart attack there," he mumbled, and she realized he was rather pale.

"What happened, Ron? What happened in the Forbidden Forest? Where is Elijah?" the questions were tumbling over her lips, her tone urgent but nonetheless hushed so as not to alert anyone of the fact that they were out after curfew.

Ron's pressed his lips close together in a grim line, his blue eyes darkening. "I was right about him all along, Hermione. He's a monster, an inhuman beast," he said darkly, his voice full of conviction.

The worlds whirled in Hermione's head, making her pale at their meaning. Had they found out that Harry's a vampire? Had they killed him? Surely they hadn't killed him already, Dumbledore wouldn't have allowed that, would he? But even in her own mind, she could hear the uncertainty of her thoughts.

"What happened?" she asked again, her voice steadier now, not giving away what she was thinking.

"He killed someone, Hermione," Ron whispered urgently, apparently intent on making her understand that Harry was indeed the monster Ron believed him to be. "With the killing curse, just like that. And he's been pretending to be your friend all this time, appearing all innocent and stuff."

The words make Hermione cold, her eyes widening in disbelief. "Did you see it?" she asked, needing to confirm that it was indeed the truth.

"Yeah, I saw it, all right. Both me and the professor did."

"Who did he kill?"

"Don't know," Ron answered, looking uncertain for the first time. "Just some weird guy who was in the forest."

Hermione stared at him and badly wanted to ask him how often he thought "weird guys" walked around the Forbidden Forest, but she didn't as there were more important things she had to know.

"What did he look like? How was he weird? Did he say anything?"

Ron gave her a strange look, obviously wondering about her urgent questioning for more information, but he answered her anyway. "I didn't see everything, okay? And it was rather dark, so I couldn't make out what he looked like, but there was something about him that wasn't quite human, and he…" The redhead trailed off, frowning in deep thought, a look of confusion and incomprehension on his features. "He called Spring his _fledging_ and talked about _feeding_," he said with a hint of disgust in his tone, the shock still gripping him after the events in the Forbidden Forest and hindering his mind from properly processing what had happened, disabling him from understanding even the rather obvious things.

Hermione took a deep breath and held it, her eyes wide. The man Harry had killed had been a vampire, and if he really had called Harry his fledging, he must have been the vampire who turned him, which would explain why Harry hated him enough to actually kill him. But still, for Harry to use the unforgivable killing curse… it seemed unlikely, but then again, a lot had changed over the past couple of months.

"And then?" she asked. "What happened after that?"

"I don't know," Ron answered shrugging uncomfortably. "Spring told me to run, so I ran, and after a while I shot red sparks so that the professor would find me."

He fell silent, his face paling again as he remembered.

"And when you returned with professor Grubbly Plank?" Hermione prompted.

Ron shook his head, the look of disbelief returning as if he didn't completely thrust that what he'd seen had been real. "The ground was all torn up and these really thick boughs had been snapped from the trees like little twigs. Some insane storm was blowing between the trees, and I have no idea where it came from, like a tornado or something. And they were fighting, that man and Spring, like savage animals, and then Spring was thrown into a tree, and he took his wand, and-"

He stopped short, his face pale, but Hermione understood and simply nodded.

"And when the man was dead? What happened to Elijah?"

"I can't believe you, Hermione!" Ron exclaimed, barely remembering to keep his voice hushed. "Why do you still care for that monster, why don't you see-!"

"Ron!" Hermione hissed, feeling her patience waning. "_What happened to Elijah_?"

"Grubbly Plank stupified him," Ron bit out. "Then she sent a patronus after Dumbledore, and he showed up with the Aurors. They wanted to kill Spring on the spot when they'd heard what'd happened, but you know Dumbledore, he's a good man and think even monsters deserve a second chance, so he somehow talked them into putting Spring in Azkaban instead. He deserves to rot in that hellhole."

Brown eyes slipped shut as despair threatened to numb her mind, but she forced herself to think rationally as she always did. So they knew that Harry was a vampire, which was why they'd wanted to kill him immediately, and they also knew that he knew Dark Arts since he'd used the killing curse, which meant the only secret that still was unknown to them was his true identity. If she told Dumbledore, he'd no doubt take Harry from Azkaban and even if he didn't let him back to Hogwarts, he'd at least be put in Grimmauld Place with Sirius, but then he'd be forced to fight in a war he didn't want to take part in. He was strong, so even thought the dementors affected him more then what was usual, she was sure he wouldn't lose his mind in that horrid place, but they couldn't very well leave him there.

But how to get him out of Azkaban without revealing his true identity? Was there even a way?

Her eyes snapped open and she pushed past Ron, starting down the stairs in haste, her brown locks flapping around her face.

"Hey! Where are you going?" Ron shouted, coming after her.

"I'm going to talk to Malfoy," she said, not even locking back at him as she continued down the next staircase. She'd never been to the Slytherin's common room before due to the accident with the Polyjuice potion in second year, but she'd seen how to get there on Harry's map over Hogwarts and knew she'd be able to find her way on her own.

"What? _Why_?"

"Because he's Elijah's friend!" she hissed in answer, hoping the redhead would just go back to their common room and leave her.

"So what? Spring deceived you and put us all in danger, but the ferret probably knew-"

"As did I, Ron," she clipped him off, hurrying down a corridor.

"_What_? Why didn't you tell us? Why didn't you go to Dumbledore? You endangered everyone-!"

Hermione stopped short and swirled around, almost making Ron knock into her, and stabbed an accusing finger in his face, making his eyes cross for a moment.

"Elijah was never a danger to anyone, and you have no right to call him a monster! I know that, Malfoy knows that, and if you hadn't been so prejudiced, if you'd only given him a chance, you would have known that as well! Now go back to the common room and tell the other Gryffindors whatever horrid stories you want, just don't get in my way!"

With that, she turned around and marched on, leaving a shocked and stunned Ron behind, staring after her angry back with a lost look in his eyes and a confused expression as his world was turned upside down.

A few moments later, Hermione stood in a dark dungeon corridor with a blank, seemingly normal part of the wall before her, but she was quite sure this was the hidden passage to the Slytherin common room. What she didn't know, however, was how to get in.

Slightly hesitant but knowing she had no time to lose, she lifted her fist and rapped her knuckles harshly against the wall, hoping the sound could be heard on the inside. She waited impatiently and just as she was about to bang on the wall again, the hidden door was revealed and opened by a Slytherin from seventh year who sneered at her in disdain.

"What are you doing here, mudblood?"

"I need to talk to Malfoy!" she said loudly, hoping the blonde ferret would be in the common room and hear her.

"Why ever would he want to talk to-"

"I think that is for me to decide, don't you agree, Pucey?" Malfoy's haughty voice came from behind the older student, and Pucey stepped to the side to let the blonde heir forth.

"What du you want, Granger?" he asked coldly, but his voice neither held the hostility nor the disgust that had once been there. Now, there was worry in his silver eyes, and he almost seemed relieved to see her.

"They've found out what Elijah is," she hissed, hoping no one but Malfoy would hear her.

Silver eyes widened and the Slytherin stepped out into the corridor and closed the door behind him, nearly slamming it in the face of the older and now very confused student.

"How?" His question was more of a demand, but the worry in his eyes was enough to make Hermione look past that.

"His sire showed up in the Forbidden Forest and they had a fight. Elijah killed him with the killing curse," she summarized quickly.

The pale face before her paled further until it looked like he was about to faint, and he swallowed before asking; "They haven't killed him, have they?"

"No," Hermione assured with a quick shake of her head. "Dumbledore talked them into letting him live and putting him in Azkaban, so his life is safe at least for now."

"Finally that old man is good for something," Malfoy mumbled, but Hermione pressed on.

"They might come looking for his things, so we have to hide his trunk somewhere so they can't find anything incriminating that might make them change their mind," she said, not mentioning that Harry's invisibly cloak might be in that trunk, and that it might reveal who he really was since so few had them.

Malfoy gave a determined nod and turned to the door that once again looked like part of the wall and said _Parseltongue_, making the door open for them.

"Come on then," Malfoy said to her as he stepped into the common room, and she followed him after a moment of uncertainty, knowing this was the most dangerous place for her to be in all of Hogwarts.

"What do you think you're doing, you filthy-?" Pucey exclaimed, but he was quickly pushed to the side by Blaise Zabini who was followed by Theodore Nott and Pansy Parkinson.

"What's up, Draco?" he asked, his dark eyes flickering to Hermione in confusion but without expressing any opinion about her being there.

"Elijah's in trouble," Malfoy said shortly before moving past his friends and marching across the common room, Hermione close behind. She saw none of the green furniture they walked past, nor the silver snakes or the many disgusted looks she gained from the people in plush armchairs around the room. She vaguely noticed that none of Malfoy's friends – and Harry's, she had to remind herself – followed them, just looked after them with curiosity and concern before they turned to each other with meaningful looks and returned to whatever there was they'd previously been doing.

Malfoy led her into the dormitory for fifth-year boys, and she found it much like the Gryffindor dorm, except for the fact that everything silver and green was golden and crimson, and while this room was rectangular with three beds on each side of the room, the dorm in the Gryffindor tower was circular. But the beds were the same, four-posters with a canopy overhead and hangings to provide privacy, trunks by the ends of the beds, some openly displaying the mess residing therein, others neatly closed to hide their contents. The bed they walked over to was neatly made and looked somewhat unused, as if no one had slept in it for quite a few nights, and Hermione remembered that Malfoy had become Harry's blood donor. Did that include sleeping with each other, even outside of feeding and the… _actions_ that immediately followed?

The trunk by the foot of Harry's bed was closed, a heap of wrinkled clothes resting on the lid where Harry had dumped them, seemingly without any intention whatsoever to attempt order. Malfoy went directly to the bed itself and started looking under the pillows, the mattress, on the floor in the dark under the bed, evidently in search for something that might have been hidden outside of the trunk that might be found by searching Aurors when they found the trunk gone. While he searched, Hermione waved her wand and had the discarded clothes fold themselves into a neat stack.

She could feel Malfoy's eyes on her as she bent down and opened the trunk, finding it unguarded without lock or security of any sort, and she thought she saw something laying neatly folded at the bottom that shimmered in silver before she put the stack of clothes over it, concealing it from view. Straightening, she closed the lid over the mess of things that filled the trunk before tapping it with her wand and shrinking it until it was small enough to put in her pocket.

"Where do we hide it?" Malfoy asked, and she could hear it in his voice that he didn't really want to ask, didn't want to let her know that he didn't know what to do.

Unfortunately, she didn't either. "I don't know. I could hide it among my things, but…"

She turned around to face the blonde Slytherin, and for a moment that seemed to stretch for several minutes, they stared at each other in silence, all enmity and prejudice temporarily forgotten between them as they were both set on helping their mutual friend. Then something lightened in those silver eyes, an idea, but the next moment he was frowning, hesitating as if unwilling to share the idea with her. Hadn't she already shown that she was doing this for Harry, that she was trustable and wouldn't go to Dumbledore with what she knew? His obvious distrust irritated her, but then her ever rational mind suggested that there might something else at stake – or someone else and his secret's.

Understanding dawned on her features, and the name was over her lips before she could stop herself. "Snape," she whispered, and Malfoy's eyes narrowed as he clearly wondered what she'd do with the information about the potions master now that she had figured it out.

"He already knows everything, and he's on Elijah's side, so he could hide the trunk… or even better, give it to You-Know-Who," she said, her brain working even as she talked, and when she'd finished she found Malfoy staring at her.

"And you're okay with that?" he asked disbelievingly.

"With what?" she asked, urgency working its way into her voice again as he realized that the Auror might come in any moment, looking for the trunk that was now in her pocket, and it would no doubt be suspicious that a Gryffindor stood in the dorm along with a Slytherin, both of them friends of Elijah's and the trunk mysteriously gone. How would they explain that?

"You're a follower of the Light," Malfoy stated, breaking through her thoughts and calling on her attention, distaste in his voice at the mention of the resistance against You-Know-Who. "Are you willing to help Elijah, who is a follower of the Dark, and consequently help the Dark Lord? Will you be able to keep silent about Snape?"

Hermione stared at him, her eyes wide. She hadn't thought about that but found she didn't really care, at least not now, not now when they didn't have the time.

"Yes," she snapped before turning on her heel and walking to the door of the dorm, and Malfoy hurried up to her and walked past her to lead the way, not because she couldn't find her way but because of the Slytherins still in the common room, she realized. Malfoy didn't like her, but since they were both helping Elijah, he was ready to tolerate and even protect her for the time being.

They both ignored the rest of the Slytherins completely as they crossed the green common room, and then they were out in the corridor, walking quickly and quietly, listening for any sound that would alert them that they were about to be found out. The labyrinth of corridors around them remained silent except for the occasional snore from one of the sparse portraits, and then they were outside Snape's quarters, Malfoy rapping his knuckles urgently against the wooden door.

The hour was rather late, and when the door was yanked open, Snape's eyes were completely black as he snapped "What?", but as soon as he realized who the two students outside of his door were, he looked down both ends of the corridor to check that they are indeed alone before he opened the door fully and waved for them to come in, the door closing again as soon as they'd both stepped over the threshold.

Considering the horror stories Ron and Harry had told her of Snape's office since their visit there in the beginning of their second year – or rather, before their second year had even begun – she had somewhat expected the potions master's room to be more horrid then it was, but she didn't have the time to inspect the room further as Snape rounded on them.

"It's about Elijah," she said quickly, hoping to spare them of the vocal beating she and Malfoy risked receiving, and Snape's eyes narrowed at her. He did, however, give her a cold nod as if asking her to continue, as so she did. She told them everything she'd heard from Ron; how they'd met Harry's sire and what had been said before Ron had fled; what Ron and Grubbly Plank had seen upon returning and that the professor had stunned "Elijah"; about Dumbledore and the Aurors, and finally that "Elijah" had been taken to Azkaban, his life spared at least for the moment. Of course she didn't say anything about Elijah's true identity since Malfoy was so far ignorant of this, but she did look Snape in the eyes and tried to somehow mentally convey the message to him.

"We took his trunk so that they wouldn't be able to find out _anything more_ if they were to find it," she finished, stressing the two words in a last attempt to make Snape understand her silent message and she took the miniature trunk from her pocket and gave it to the so far silent professor.

"We thought you might take it to You-Know-Who and tell him of what has happened so that he can act as soon as possible," Hermione said, a hint of pleading creeping into her tone, and she saw Malfoy nodding silently by her side. For a moment her certainty wavered. What if Snape was really loyal to the Order and whent directly to Dumbledore with this? What if the bat-like man before her wasn't siding with the Dark Lord? Her mind pointed out to her that she for the first time in her life hoped that someone would be an ally of the Dark and that that was a person she'd long believed to be loyal to the Light and had therefore unwillingly trusted, but her concern for Harry's wellbeing put all such thoughts to silence, deeming them irrelevant at the moment.

Then Snape gave a short nod, a chopping motion as if he was trying to cut through the air with his chin, and he took the trunk from her outstretched hand.

"Return to your dorms before anyone finds you out of bed and starts asking questions," he ordered, his voice full of unquestionable authority.

XXX

Snape pulled his head out of the green flames and sighed as the fire died down, the connection to the Dark Lord's mansion closing yet again as he raised and brushed the soot from his robe, his limps popping uncomfortably in protest against having to kneel by the hearth. Taking a few steps back he let himself sink into the armchair and raised his hands to massage his temples, a headache already blooming behind his eyes as it always did when he'd been involved in one of the many troubles that Elijah's mere existence seemed to cause.

He had, however, been liberated from Elijah's troubles for a while since Draco had taken the responsibility of seeing to it so that the young vampire fed, and this time had been monumentally different, not only because _Granger_ and Draco had come to him without Elijah, but mainly so because the Gryffindor girl had already found a solution to their problem. To take Elijah's trunk in order to keep it from the Aurors and Dumbledore and give it to him, Snape, was evidence of quick thinking, especially since she'd also figured that he could report Elijah's capture to the Dark Lord and by doing so see to it so that the most powerful ally was informed enough to be able to help. Quite the ingenious solution, and even more so since it came from a Gryffindor muggleborn who had always been unquestionably Light in Snape's eyes.

This, however, awakened quite a few questions in the potions master's mind. Was the girl still a supporter of the Light? If so, then how could she unblinkingly help the Dark? How could she be so unfazed by the fact that Snape was, in fact, a supporter of the Dark? The realization should have terrified her as he was also a trusted member of the Order, but she barely seemed to have reacted at all. Was it perhaps the foolish loyalty and friendship between Gryffindors that made her so intent on helping Elijah that she could ignore his siding in the war, even thought he wasn't her house mate…

Groaning, Snape felt like slapping himself for his stupidity; now he realized what Granger's meaning looks had meant, what it was she was trying to convey to him without letting Draco know – she had figured out that Elijah was in fact her dear friend Potter. Sighing, he realized it didn't surprise him; if anyone was likely to have figured it out it was Granger since she had a most brilliant mind and also knew Potter very well.

For the first time he actually acknowledged the girl's brilliance instead of writing her off as an annoying know-it-all, and he found himself thinking that Potter had actually made a good choice in befriending the girl, something that could not be said about the youngest Weasley boy.

When reporting to the Dark Lord he had not concealed the fact that Draco and Granger both knew of Potter's vampirism, and at that moment he had only worried for his godson's safety, but now he found himself revealed also for the Gryffindor as the Lord had been too upset by Elijah's capture to comment on his secret having been spread.

That was also a cause of amazement, the obvious distress that the Lord had shown before concealing his feelings. Could it be that the merciless Lord had actually gained some feelings for his former enemy, that he had started caring for the troublesome boy? The thought was mind bogging and it didn't seem very likely, but there were still several things pointing towards it, so maybe, just maybe, the Dark Lord wasn't as emotionless as everyone had been led to believe.

XXX

When he opened his eyes, his first panicked thought was that he'd gone blind since he couldn't see anything, his whole world filled of an oppressing darkness that seemed to push down against him and press him to the cold stone he lay on. The darkness was cold, the iciness seeping into his very bones, numbing his already cool body, and he could feel the frost creeping towards him over the floor, coating the stones in a layer of ice. His breath was coming out in white smoke before him, concealed and hidden by the darkness just like everything else.

Curling up into a trembling ball, wide blue eyes stared into the surrounding darkness, trying to discern something, anything, but seeing nothing. He felt weak, exhausted, his heart beating wildly in his chest as fear flickered in his chest, making his breathing irregular and panicked. Straining his ears, he tried to make out any sound from the silence, hoping to hear something since anything would surely be better then the complete silence that seemed to accompany the darkness.

He could not be more wrong.

A whimper reached him, and he soon realized that the silence was filled with pathetic, desperate whimpers and pained groans, ragged breathing and torn sounds that didn't even sound human. Someone was mumbling broken whispers, incoherent sentences without meaning, the words "_sorry_" and "_not me_" repeated among the other words of what seemed to be an apology or perhaps an attempt of defense. A high pitched, maniacal laughter broke through the wailings, a cackle freed of all sanity, and it sent chills down his spine and into his very soul as he thought of what resided in the impenetrable darkness.

Pressing his hands to his ears, he tried to silence the sounds that seemed to come from all around him, closer and closer as if the madness was slowly creeping forward to invade his mind and take his sanity away. He pressed his lips together so as to not let a whimper escape him, feeling that it would bring him one step closer to the insanity resting in the dark if he let himself voice his distress as they did.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw something moving in the darkness, seemingly floating over him, a shredded shadow freeing itself and taking form. Before he could make out any further characteristics, green light flooded his sight and his mother's scream filled his ears. Then he was the one screaming, begging for someone to save him, before he was looking down into the dead, staring eyes of his uncle, feeling dread fill his being as he realized he was the murder. He was laying under the bush in the muggle park, fearing for his life as he didn't know who to trust…

His consciousness slipped away as hopelessness filled him, and a whimper filled of despair escaped past his lips just before his eyes fell shut…

**I said I felt bad about the cliffhanger in chapter 26, didn't I? Well, not **_**too bad**_**, apparently ;P**

**A**** recommendation, anyone? It's actually on FictionPress, meaning it's an original story and not a fanfic, but it's just so great! XD It's called "Out of Luck" and it's written by ****d'Neronique, so if you feel like it, go over there and check it out!**


	28. Chapter 28

**Okay, so updates are most likely gonna come further apart now since school's started again and I have to dedicate time to that. Don't get depressed though, I've already written the first 2210 words of chapter 29! :)**

The rumours had spread more quickly then ever, creating a hum of voices that seemed to fill the entire castle as the stories travelled from mouth to mouth, changing every time they were retold when people added their own speculations and guesses became facts. As the story of what had happened during the previous evening in the Forbidden Forest spread, the facts and truths that Ron had submitted were quickly lost, overshadowed by the many warped versions of the truth that were now seen as reliable information.

Elijah was a monster and had been executed by the Aurors, but not before Ron had fought against him and won.

No, they had been attacked, and Elijah had unfortunately died while protecting them both. The Aurors had shown up to honour his bravery and his family would be honoured with some kind of medal or the like from the Minister himself.

But that wasn't right either, since Elijah had mysteriously disappeared into the darkness among the trees, leaving Ron to fend for himself, and the Aurors had been sent to search for him.

But Elijah was a Slytherin, wasn't he? What if he was hiding somewhere in the depths of the Forbidden Forest, performing rituals of Dark magic? Maybe he was a new Dark Lord preparing to start his war against wizarding society? Surely, Dumbledore would challenge him to a duel and defeat him as he had Grindelwald?

Hermione shook her head at the inane "explanations" to Harry's disappearance, even as she found herself a tad bit fascinated over the fact that so many versions had come to life and been spread overnight, most of them flourishing during the breakfast she had just left, and there were no doubt many more stories and speculations out there that she had yet to hear. It was to be seen as something positive, she decided, since it made it impossible for the majority of the students to know what was true, and the fact that so many versions circulated made it clear that no one really knew what they were talking about.

"Granger! Hey Granger, wait up!"

Hermione glanced over her shoulder and caught sight of a short Hufflepuff who was in her Arithmancy class simply because the girl's best friend studied the subject, and the fact that the short girl didn't have any interest in the subject herself was painfully obvious from her suffering grade.

"You're friends with that Slytherin, right? Spring?"

The words made the Gryffindor stop and turn around fully, feeling slightly disgusted by the girl's desperate attempt at gaining some sort of information that she could provide for the rumours, as if doing so would somewhat make her important. The girl was, after all, known to indulge herself in gossip and to enjoy spreading it like no other, making Hermione think she either enjoyed knowing every dirty secret about others or thought she could make herself important by putting her rather stubby nose in places where it didn't belong. The fact that the Hufflepuff rather dug up personal secrets about the other students than put her mind into her studies to proved herself that way was the cause of Hermione's dislike for the girl, a dislike she quickly concealed.

"Yes, I am," she answered rather coldly, never having trained herself in the art of hiding her feelings since such things weren't needed in the house of Gryffindor, especially not when one of your closest friends had no grasp of how the female mind worked whatsoever.

"Have you heard anything? Do you know what happened to him? Is it true that he is a monster? Or is he the next Dark Lord?" the girl rattled off, taking a deep breath as if recharging before she could shoot another round, much like those overly brawny men in those ridiculous action movies Hermione's father sometimes watched.

"Elijah is… different from the rest of us," Hermione said, thinking of what she and Malfoy wanted the students of Hogwarts to think but also taking into account what the Hufflepuff was likely to believe. "He does have a dark side, but he keeps it under control. To defend himself and Ron in the Forbidden Forest, he had to let some of that darkles show. It is unfortunate that the Aurors couldn't see that Elijah is really of no danger to anyone."

The girl's eyes widened until they seemed too big for her head and whatever other questions she'd had seemed forgotten in the face of the information Hermione had slipped her.

Turning her back to the girl, Hermione continued on her way, well aware that what she'd said would have spread across Hogwarts before lunch. It was the truth, at least part of it, and that was exactly what she and Malfoy had realized they wanted the rest of the school to know. Being the manipulative Slytherin he was, Malfoy had approached her at breakfast with the idea that they'd spread their own version of the "truth", and by doing so, they would defend Elijah and question the Aurors' decision to place Elijah in Azkaban.

It was a great idea, simple yet effective, if a bit too deceptive for Hermione's Gryffindor side, but seeing as it was likely to work and indirectly would help Elijah as they would cause many to think it unfair that he'd been put in Azkaban, she could find no reason to not go along with the "plan", which was why they'd called for a DG meeting after lunch. After all, their version of the truth would spread faster if there were more mouths spreading it.

But first, before she could do any of that, she also needed to do what she under normal circumstances would have done much earlier; she had to talk to Dumbledore. Of course, she wouldn't tell him what she knew of Harry, but she had to know what the man thought of "Elijah" being a vampire, had to know why the headmaster had let the Aurors take him to Azkaban instead of protecting the teen as she's somewhat expected him to do if the secret ever was found out. If they were to spread their truth, it was very likely that some would question why Dumbledore didn't help Elijah just like she did, and she needed to confront the headmaster herself before she started working against him.

Stopping before the gargoyle she pulled out a sheet of paper from her pocket, where the names of sweets were listed in alphabetical order since Harry had once told her that the password to the headmaster's office tended to be the name of some sweet. Glancing up at the stony eyes of the gargoyle that seemed to watch her suspiciously, she took a deep breath and looked down on the parchment in her hands. Starting from the top, she read out the name of the different sweets she'd listed, pausing after each sweet to see if the gargoyle would react.

When the gargoyle came to life at the mention of _acid pops_, Hermione startled in surprise, somewhat having expected it to take much longer to get the gargoyle to move since the list was quite long and she was only in the beginning, not to mention that there surely were sweets she had forgotten about that could have been the password.

"Thank you," she mumbled to the stone figure as she hurried past it, and she was sure she saw it blink at her before the winding staircase started rotating upwards and brought her around the corner where she couldn't see the statue anymore. The stairs soon stopped by the door to Dumbledore's office, and Hermione tucked the note with sweets into her pocket before raising her hand to knock.

"Do come in, dear," Dumbledore's voice sounded amiably from the inside before her knuckles were even close to touching the wooden door, and she blinked in surprise before putting her raised hand on the handle instead to open the door.

The office revealed before her looked just like it always had; the circular room was filled with silver trinkets on tables with spidery legs, some that let out puffs of smoke, others ticking, or chiming, or chirping. The sun shone rather bleakly through the window, throwing a golden light over the office and creating shining reflections on the silver trinkets and the frames of Dumbledore's half-moon glasses from behind which the headmaster's blue eyes twinkled merrily as usual, giving no indication as to the fact that one of his students had been taken to Azkaban the previous evening.

"Ms. Granger, please have a seat," he offered merrily, and Hermione did. "Lemon drop?"

"Um, no thank you, headmaster," she answered politely, knowing all too well what the candy would do to her teeth since her parents were dentists. "I would like to talk about Elijah, actually," she said hesitantly.

"Ah, yes, such a sad case. He was a very promising student, Mr. Spring. He showed great potential during the short period of time he was with us and performed well even thought he joined us rather extemporarily like that, in the beginning of fifth year and all," Dumbledore said regretfully and popped a lemon drop.

"Aren't you going to do something, professor Dumbledore?" she croaked, her voice catching somewhat in her throat, her eyes wide with disbelief.

"Unfortunately there isn't much that can be done, dear."

Hermione stared at him in disbelief, half expecting the man to suddenly add that he would immediately put his everything into getting Elijah freed. This was, after all, the man who had helped Remus Lupin hide his lycanthropy during his Hogwarts years, the man who believed that everyone had a good side and that everyone deserved a second chance. He was the man who had declined the offer to become the Minister of Magic because he didn't want the power, the one who was leading the Order of the Phoenix even thought the world didn't believe in his war, and most importantly, he was the man Hermione had looked up to, had trusted. Somewhere along the way, she had uplifted him to inhuman heights, making him a god in her eyes, and she'd always thought that he could solve any problem, right any fault. If there was trouble, you just had to ask Dumbledore.

"But- But he's innocent! He hasn't done anything!" she blurted.

"But he has, Ms. Granger. Not only did he keep his state of being a secret and thus endangered the rest of the students, he also used an unforgivable. There is no doubt of what he has done, and for that, he must atone."

"But it was in self-defense!" she protested, unwilling to believe what she was hearing yet knowing better then to deny it.

"Even so, his vampirism remains a fact, Ms. Granger. That alone would have been enough to sentence him to death had I not intervened," Dumbledore said ever so kindly, the merry twinkle still alive in his eyes.

"You helped Remus Lupin through his lycanthropy," she said, her voice barely more then a whisper. This was her last chance, her last argument. If this didn't work… "You believe that everyone deserves a second chance, no? Then why not Elijah? Why not help him as you helped Lupin?"

Dumbledore sighed and for the first time ever, Hermione thought she saw annoyance flash in those twinkling blue eyes, but then the annoyance was gone and she couldn't be sure it had ever been there. Meeting her inquiring, brown gaze, Hermione saw regret and concern in the blue eyes of the headmaster, but there was something unnamed and unknown yet undeniable in her that made it feel as if those feelings of sympathy weren't quite as sincere as she'd always thought.

"I'm afraid he is already beyond saving, Ms. Granger, or I would have done everything in my power to give him all the help needed."

"What do you mean, 'beyond saving'?" Hermione asked bewildered as she couldn't see why Harry would have to be saved at all before he ended up in Azkaban.

"His increased strength and speed as well as the use of accidental or wild magic shows beyond doubt that he has already ingested human blood, which means he will forever be unable to resort to the alternative potions that could otherwise hade helped him. As it is, he will always crave human blood, meaning everyone around him will be endangered, especially here at Hogwarts with so many students who would not stand a chance against a hungry vampire."

Hermione stared at the man she had long respected and trusted, the man she had idolized and who had inspired her. Her mouth was closed and remained so since she was unable to think of anything to say – or rather, there were quite a few things she could have said, but she realized nothing would make him change his mind. He would not be of any help this time, and the only thing her mind provided as answer to that was Harry's words.

"_Dumbledore isn't always what he seems to be_."

XXX

Hermione sat at the teacher's desk in one of the unused and empty classrooms that seemed to exist in abundance at Hogwarts now that they were needed, her brown and normally warm eyes hard with determination as she had steeled herself to face the fact that reality didn't look the way she'd always thought, enabling her to accept that what she'd previously taken for granted might not at all be true while the things she'd valued might be completely worthless if not inexistent.

Malfoy stood beside her, leaning back against the desk with his arms crossed over his chest and a slight glint in his sliver eyes, and the fact that it was _Malfoy_ standing there instead of "Elijah" had many of the students before them confused as no one had really told the members of the Defence Group why they were having a emergency meeting, even though most of them had probably figured it out what with the many rumours circulating around school. They were all sitting in a half circle before the desk, the Gryffindors and the Slytherins having placed themselves as far from each other as possible with the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws in the middle. Luna was the one sitting beside the Slytherins, creating a sort of barrier with her dreamy and unfocused existence, a look of bored curiosity in her distant eyes.

"Hello everyone," Hermione started, more as a way to begin then to call attention since everyone was already looking at her with questions filling their eyes, their inquisitive gazes sometimes flickering to Malfoy but quickly returning again.

"As I am sure you all know, Elijah is no longer a student here at Hogwarts due to what happened in the Forbidden Forest last evening," she continued and everyone was now staring at her with complete focus, except for Luna who smiled dreamingly as her gaze drifted off towards the ceiling.

"Yeah, what happened to him?" Fred asked immediately.

"All we've heard is that bullshit that Ronniekins is spreading around," George filled in.

Hermione gave a slow nod and sighed, resisting the urge to glance towards the blonde Slytherin at her side since he was the manipulative one, the one who'd put forth the plan for how to go through with this. It was he who had decided that Hermione was the one who had to speak since more people trusted her then him, and he was the one who'd told her to quickly and simply lay forth the "truth" as they wanted it to be known so that the others didn't have a chance to create their own opinions on the matter. It was too deceptive, too dishonest and manipulative for her, her Gryffindor honesty balking against what she was about to do, but for Harry's sake, she would do it.

She had promised him, said that she was his friend first and foremost. As the Gryffindor she was, she would keep her promise.

"Yesterday in the Forbidden Forest, Elijah saved Ron's life and defended his own," she said, forcing herself to sound as matter-of-factly as possible, much like when she told her friends what professor Binns' class had been about, making her words sound like the indisputable truth. "For that, he was sent to Azkaban."

Gasps answered her statement, eyes staring at her with disbelief. The Slytherins just nodded gravely, as Draco had already told them of what had happened to "Elijah", their mouths set in thin lines.

"What?" Ginny exclaimed, her brown eyes wide. "_Why_?"

"Because of the unfair prejudice and narrow-mindedness that sadly rules our society. Because some people who've never met him and don't know him have decided that he's too dangerous to be allowed to be free, even though he has never posed a threat to anyone," Hermione answered firmly, looking Ginny straight in the eyes and leaving no room of questioning. It felt wrong to do this, to _make_ someone feel and think what she and Malfoy wanted them to, but she wasn't going to stop now, not when it was working, not when it was going to help Harry.

She swept her eyes over the listening students before her, some of them leaning forwards as if they wanted to be the first to catch the words falling from her lips. They were all open to her, unknowingly letting her dictate their thoughts and feelings, and Hermione half expected the Sorting Hat to pop up from nowhere and place itself on her head to shout "SLYTHERIN!" because of what she was doing. But no worn hat showed up, and she continued before she could stop herself.

"Elijah is a vampire," she stated, and quickly continued before anyone could voice their thoughts of hate and fear against magical creatures. "He happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time and was abused and forcefully turned against his will by a rough vampire who then left him wounded to care for himself. Because of this, Elijah holds a deep revulsion against the thought of drinking blood, and therefore drank potions for a long time to quell his blood thirst until an accident here at Hogwarts forced him to start feeding of human blood, but he only ever took the blood that had been offered and never more then the willing donor was ready to give. Even then, he was hesitant to feed of anyone at all, and suffered unnecessarily from blood thirst because he only ever drank when it was absolutely unavoidable.

"He would never _ever_ harm anyone, and the thought of taking blood by force would never have crossed his mind," Hermione finished, her voice confident and certain as she retold the story Malfoy had told her to make the others sympathise with "Elijah", making it obvious beyond doubt that he was the victim.

"I thought everyone already knew that Elijah is a vampire."

All attention immediately snapped to Luna, Malfoy and Hermione included as none of them had been aware that the dreamy girl knew. The Ravenclaw blinked, surprised to suddenly be in the centre of attention.

"It's easy to see if you use Spectrespecs, because the Wrackspurts really like vampires," she explained as if it was common knowledge.

"What's a Wrackspurt?" Neville asked in confusion, and it was obvious that quite a few wondered just the same.

"They're invisible and float into your ears, making your brain go fuzzy," Lunch answered distantly, making Neville look around himself worriedly.

Hermione cleared her throat to call for attention, and they all turned towards her. Unfortunately, Luna's input had broken the moment and the control she'd had over them had dissipated, leaving them free to think of their own.

"So how did they find out that he's a vampire? I mean, something must have happened, and you did say he saved Weasley's life," Ernie Macmillan pointed out with a frown.

Breathing in deeply but quietly so as to not make it obvious, Hermione remembered Malfoy's words: "_Don't lie because you're not capable of lying convincingly, but you don't have to tell all of the truth either. Skip the unfavorable parts and portray Elijah as a saint if needed as long as there is no doubt that he is the victim._"

"While in the Forbidden Forest, Elijah and Ron were attacked," Hermione began, hoping she might be able to convince them that her version of the truth was _the_ truth. Apparently, she'd managed to catch their attention again since Ginny was already leaning forwards in her seat. "They were attacked by another vampire, more specifically the one who forcefully bit and turned Elijah; his sire. The rough vampire quite obviously did not have the same values and principles regarding feeding that Elijah has got, so if it had not been for Elijah telling Ron to flee, I am sure the he would have been drained and left to die by the hand of Elijah's sire."

Her last statement drew chocked gasps from a few in the group, and some of the faces turned towards her were quite shocked. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Malfoy give her a small nod in approval, and so she continued.

"A fight erupted between Elijah and the vampire, and Elijah won. Unfortunately, the fact that he is a vampire was found out and he was sent to Azkaban."

_There_, she thought. _No lies, but not all of the truth either. _

_Now, don't give them time to think. Go on. _

"Now you know," she said firmly, her determination and the strength put into her words increasing for every syllable spoken. "I know the truth, Malfoy here knows the truth, and now you do as well. Elijah doesn't deserve to be called a monster as he did it all to save Ron, Ron who doesn't like him and has disliked him from the very start. He deserves to be seen as the great guy he really is, he deserves to be known for what he has really done, and the students here at Hogwarts deserve to know the truth, to know what really happened in the Forbidden Forest and to know why Elijah was so abruptly taken from us."

She paused momentarily to let her eyes swipe over the group seated before her, all of them listening eagerly, soaking up every word, nodding along as she spoke. Malfoy had a minuscule smile playing at the corner of his mouth, showing that she was doing this right.

She had them.

"Therefore, I want you to spread the truth," she continued softly, slowing her tempo and letting her words become almost soothing, like the calm after a storm. "Let us tell the rest of the students of what we know, and let them in turn spread it to their families and friends. For them, for Elijah… for us."

Once she was finished and everyone had left, she let out a massive breath of relief and let her head drop back, her eyes closed and she concentrated on slowing her hammering heart, the adrenaline in her veins waning and leaving her hands and legs slightly shaky. But she'd done it, and she'd done it well, and hopefully it would somehow help Elijah and do something about the unsightly prejudice plaguing their already crippled society.

A hand patted her back, a quick touch, so light she barely felt it through the robe, and when she opened her eyes she saw Malfoy retract his hand, his face turned away, his eyes locked onto the far wall. When he spoke, the words weren't directed towards her but to the empty classroom before them, but she knew they were meant for her anyway.

"You did great."

XXX

Blue eyes flickered back and forth, trying to discern something from the never-ending darkness, straining to see, to prove that he hadn't gone blind. Panic welled up in his chest at the thought that he might be permanently blind, that he might never see light again, that his world would forever consist of darkness, and he squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to close out the darkness, to create the illusion that he would still be able to see if only he opened his eyes again.

His stomach rumbled and he groaned, hugging himself tightly as if the added pressure over his middle would somehow quell the hunger gnawing away on the inside, eating him up from the inside and out. Along with the hunger came the thirst, and with it the thirst for blood, the need to feed, the different kinds of hungers fuelling each other and weakening him faster then normal hunger alone ever could. The little strength that had remained after the fight had left him by now, and ever if he had wanted to, he was no longer able to rise from the spot on the cold floor where he lay, his body trembling but otherwise completely still.

Cruel marks stretched over his throat, long lines left behind by his own nails as he had scratched himself in an attempt to ease the burning need that filled him, but the extra loss of blood had only served to weaken him further, the wounds slowly clogging over as he was too weak to heal them quickly.

He had no idea for how long he'd been there, laying in the darkness, slipping in and out of consciousness, never sure of for how long he'd been unaware. No one ever came with food, no one ever checked up on him, no light was ever lit. He could have been there for days, it felt as if he'd been there for weeks but it might as well only have been hours since he first woke up to find himself surrounded by darkness and wailings. There was no way for him to determine how long he'd been there, and insanity hovered at the edges of his mind when he thought of being trapped there forever.

Not that "forever" would last very long if he didn't get something to eat or drink soon.

His exhausted mind slowly drifted off, blissful unconsciousness awaiting just outside of his grasp, and just as he thought he was about to reach it, something drew his attention. He wasn't even sure what it was, had no idea why he hadn't managed to reach unconsciousness, but there was something that made him strain his hearing to listen and try to hear past the moans and the occasional cackle.

Steps.

The footsteps of several persons travelling from afar through the darkness, no more then an echo of the original sound, but no less important as the mundane sound bore with it a change, something new in addition to the chorus of insanity and pain that surrounded him.

Intently listening he heard the steps approach, closer and closer until he could actually hear the original tramping, a steady but urgent beat in the background behind the echo travelling before it. He realized that he was holding his breath and reminded himself that he had to breath as he listened to the approaching steps, discerning that they belonged to at least three different persons who were all hurrying.

"_You_!" someone exclaimed, the voice shrill and on the border of insanity, the tone somewhere between relief, triumph and the ultimate fear. "You! He's here! _He's here_!"

The maniacal cackle interrupted, this time tinted with triumph, and he found himself curling up, no longer wanting to know who the steps belonged to, not wishing for the steps to come any closer since they couldn't possibly bring anything positive with them if the insanity in this place was happy to see whoever the steps belonged to. But the steps kept coming closer, closer and closer until the rhythmic sound seemed to bounce through his skull, making him squeeze his eyes shut harder as if it would make it stop, and then it sounded as if the steps were no more then a couple of metres away.

They stopped.

Silence.

For several heartbeats, all he could hear was his own ragged, panicked breathing as he prayed for the steps to continue, to go on, to go away and disappear. To leave him in the darkness, as it must surely be better then whatever the steps brought.

Then a metallic, rusty screech cut through the silence, and he curled up tighter, a wince escaping between his lips. Light burned through his closed eyelids, painting his world red and paining his eyes as they had grown used to darkness, and he frenetically wished he'd had enough strength left to move so that he'd been able to escape somehow.

The steps again, so close now, coming closer and closer until he was sure they were just before him…

XXX

The green flash lit the darkness of seemingly endless corridors of damp stone adorned with moss, the chilled air filled with the stench of fear and dirty bodies. The body of an unshaven guard fell to the unforgiving ground, pale eyes staring emptily at the roof, wand clattering as it rolled away from a limp hand. The Dark Lord Voldemort, known to a few by the name of Tom Riddle, swept past with long strides, a feeling of urgency driving his hurried steps, cold rage burning in his red eyes, yet he did not feel any satisfaction when killing the guards, no desire to torture as he usually did. All he could think of were a pair of impossibly green eyes, a mop of messy, black hair and a smile of mischief that seemed to lighten the room – all of it possibly gone forever.

The thought enraged him and feelings far stronger then anything he'd felt in a long time awoke, making his chest ache and his blood boil as it coursed through his veins. He sped up his pace further, almost running with his black robes billowing ominously behind him and forcing one of his followers to cast a _lumos_ so as to light the ground before them, preventing them from tripping over something as they passed one cell after another, the inhabitants groaning as light hit them.

Their appearances were all ghastly, pale and worn with dark circles under their hollow eyes, their bodies thin and weakened from lack of nourishment, their souls sapped of all hope as dementors fed of their happy memories and left them with nothing but the horrors of the past. The wizarding society feared and detested Azkaban, but they all saw it as a prison. A horrible prison where people went insane, yes, but a prison still. What they didn't understand was that Azkaban was more of a trash dump where the unwanted people were put to be forgotten – to die. In Azkaban, no one cared if you lived of died. No one provided steady meals, but handed out some leftovers and waste when they felt like it, not caring if the prisoners ate it or starved.

He had known this for a long time and never given it a second thought, but now that Harry was involved, now that his little vampire was subjected to the cruel treatment...

"_You_! You! He's here! _He's here_!"

Tom didn't even glance at the living corpse that had recognized him as he continued, a laughter of insanity piercing the air and drowning out all other sounds as he swept by one cell after another, the dementors usually present staying at a respectful distance from the enraged icon of Darkness as he moved through the darkness of the prison as if it was his to command.

Finally, after what seemed to be far too long, he stopped before a cell and searched the darkness inside, barely managing to make out the quivering form that lay curled up in the middle of a square of cold stones, some frost still remaining in the corners after the last time a dementor had visited. In the sparse light of the _lumos_ he saw blonde hair that should have been black, and he found himself taking a deep breath in relief at finally having found him.

Without wasting another moment, he lifted his wand and spelled the door to the cell open, casing it to creak shrilly on its rusty hinges as it swung open. The trembling of the form before him seemed to increase, and a Death Eater aimed his wand at the boy, lighting him and the cell with the unforgiving glare of the _lumos_.

He was thin, his already chilled body trembling as it attempted fruitlessly to fight the cold that crippled it, eating its way into marrow and bone, unhindered by the dirty and torn tatters that were what remained of his clothes. Blond, dirtied hair hung limply over his face and neck, and blue eyes were hidden and tightly shut as if in immense pain, his arms hugging his middle, attempting to ward against both hunger and cold. As he stepped closer, he saw the barely healed scratches torn into the pale skin of his neck, dried blood left to flake.

A weak whine sounded between dry lips, the simple sound conveying pain, fear and distress in a summation of physical and psychical torture. Unable to stand it any longer, the feared Dark Lord kneeled, his robe rustling in the silence of the cell, and put his arms around the weak figure to pull the boy into his lap. A spasm went through the frail body as if the boy lashed out with the last of his energy to defend himself, but then he went limp, the last of his powers drained. A rather animalistic whine sounded from the weak creature, telling of fear but also of resignation as if he was too tired to put up a fight, too weary to care about what happened.

Hugging the mostly apathetic boy close to his chest so that his cheek come to rest against black cloth, Voldemort threaded his fingers through dirtied locks streaked with blood, enjoying the feeling of closeness and the firm pressure of the body resting against his. His rage calmed at the physical confirmation that his little vampire was back in his arms, safe and within reach as should be. The overemotional thought that he never wanted to let go again crossed his mind, and he immediately classified it as unsustainable as it wouldn't be practically possible to go through with such a thing, yet he did not deny the unfamiliar warm feeling that filled his chest.

Slipping his wand into his free hand, he flickered it towards the boy and silently sent him into a deep, comfortable sleep where he would be free of pain and horrors. Rearranging the body in his arms to a more comfortable position with one arm under the armpits, one under the knees and the blonde head resting in the crook of his neck, Tom rose in all of his black and frightening glory, his red eyes glimmering with something akin to joy.

The followers standing guard outside of the cell all stepped back and bowed deeply, not wanting to risk angering their Lord in any way as the only expression they'd ever seen on his face that was even close to the joy he showed now was the dark satisfaction and perverse enjoyment he gained from torturing his victims. To see the Dark Lord express such strong emotions over some boy made them fear for the boy's future, even as they were silently relieved that it was the boy who called forth such feelings and not them.

**Time to work your magic and review, dears! 3**


	29. Chapter 29

_Okay, so school's up and running, so most of my writing is being done on the weekends. Sadly (or not so sadly for me) I celebrated my 18__th__ birthday a few weeks back, meaning that whole weekend disappeared without much of a chance to write. But here's the chapter, enjoy it while it lasts! ;)_

The flames crackled homily in the grand fireplace of white stone, casting its warm light over the room and banning the chill from the air even as it tried to invade through the windows, a clouded and drenched autumn waiting on the other side of the glass. The room was dominated by the king-sized bed that stood against the wall opposite of the fireplace, its four posters reaching towards the ceiling, intricate snakes carved into the dark wood of the headboard and footboard, the miniature scales gleaming golden in the light of the fire.

The Dark Lord crossed the room with long strides, a dirty and bloodied boy in his arms, too thin and too pail to be healthy, the dark shadows under his closed eyes speaking of a long, stressful time without proper rest. Voldemort was known for his cruelty, his incapability of feeling empathy, but there was nothing but gentleness in his movements as he put the weakened figure on the bed, letting the frail body rest on the creamy silk sheets and the luxurious bedspread in calming greens. Swishing his feared wand over the form of the unconscious teen, Tom lifted the glamour that hid his true appearance, revealing a slighter physique with thin limbs and black, unruly hair that spread over the pillow in stark contrast to the light colouring of the pillowcase. The sight of the frail-looking boy turned the warmth in the Dark Lord's chest into heat as he had never harboured any feelings for the glamour, always seeing it as a necessary evil that hid the true features of his little vampire.

Wanting to see the electric emeralds open again, he once again aimed his wand at the boy and ended the magical sleep, causing a groan to slip between chapped lips, the soft face grimacing in pain as the boy regained awareness. Tom leaned over the boy, making the soft mattress shift as he steadied himself with a hand just beside the boy's bony shoulder, and when the emerald eyes blinked open he stared straight into their pained depths and found a mindless wildness staring back, the vampire in the boy having taken control as reality was too much for the boy to handle. The pupil shrunk to a tiny black dot as his eyes were unused to the golden light filling the room, and he hissed angrily as he squinted to shade his eyes. The thin form suddenly seemed to kick to life as his upper body rose and he reached up with both hands to grab at Tom's neck, his lips parted and fangs extended, the need to feed centred in his mind now that his human mindset was pushed aside.

Vampire or not, the boy was still incredibly weak after the treatment in Azkaban and Tom could grab his bony wrists in one hand to restrain him without really putting in any effort, his other hand placed on the narrow chest below him to push the boy back against the pillows. Writhing and squirming, the boy tried to free himself while hissing and spitting, and Tom watched with a dark and heavy feeling in his chest that he vaguely recognized as having felt a very long time ago, but the meaning of it was now forgotten. There was something about it that resembled pain, but he could not understand why he would be pained when it was the boy on the bed who was physically injured.

"Hush," he mumbled, unsure of where the gentle and softly spoken word came from, but it felt somewhat right. "Hush, Harry, hush."

Something akin to recognition flashed through those wild eyes at the mention of the his name, but it was gone again just a quickly and the trashing continued even as it was obvious how taxing it was for the boy, black hair plastered to his scarred forehead, his face shiny with sweat and his breathing irregular and laboured. Removing his hand from the heaving chest, Tom replaced it on the damp forehead, just letting his hand rest there without applying any pressure, a slight touch of closeness. Those beautifully emerald eyes widened for a moment, a rush of air leaving the boy in a gasp and Tom found himself smiling.

Of course, vampires were sensitive to human closeness.

Leaning further down Tom let their chests touch, providing more of the closeness and warmth that his little vampire so sorely needed. The tense body beneath him slowly relaxed against its will and a soft moan escaped to vibrate through the room.

"That's right, Harry" Tom mumbled, removing his hand and replacing it with his own forehead so that emeralds stared straight into ruby, the electric light in those wild orbs brighter then ever at the close proximity. "That's my good little vampire."

The hissings had stopped, his lips still slightly parted to show elongated canines, wild eyes now slightly calmed, darting back and forth as they tried to focus on both of Tom's rubies at the same time. The narrow chest heaved as he breathed deeply, pressing against Tom's stronger torso only to fall back again as he breathed out. The simple evidence of closeness to another living being overwhelmed the mighty Dark Lord, making him want to squeeze the boy hard to himself, to mark him and let the world know who he belonged to so that he could never leave, to claim him as his and his alone. Tilting his head down and to the side he placed a light kiss to the fluttering pulse that immediately seemed to quicken, making him unable to resist the impulse to suck hard and nibble slightly to leave a blushing mark as evidence of his ownership, the action drawing a deep moan from his little vampire. Pulling back a bit to admire his work, a satisfied smirk stretched his lips and he met the confused emeralds of the vampire, something new and unexpected swirling in their depts.

Submission.

The mere thought that the vampire in the boy would acknowledge him as its master and become obedient made the Dark Lord feel as if he was about to explode from all the emotions coming to life in his chest, and he dived down to lock his lips with the boy's chapped ones, dominating the kiss completely as he swept his tongue over chapped and dry lips before he poked into the warmth of his mouth, awaiting the boy's reaction. Emerald eyes stared at him in wide-eyed confusion and he gasped into the kiss, his lips separation further and Tom took the chance to run his tongue over the line of white teeth, causing the boy to moan.

The sound of pleasure sent shivers down Tom's spine and he found himself ashamed by the fact that he, as a feared Dark Lord, would lose his composure so easily, but as there was no one except his little vampire there to see he decided it did not matter at the moment. He pressed himself closer, his hand squeezing Harry's hands where he held them above the boy's head, his tongue stroking over the base of one of the sharp fangs before going down its length. Feeling the pointed end he hesitantly drew his tongue away to safety but quickly stopped himself, the thought of having his own blood flow through his little vampire filling his mind as the ultimate claiming, a way to inject a piece of himself and making the boy his.

Returning to the fang he stroked it a few times, making the boy moan again, his little vampire otherwise mostly unresponsive as if his exhausted mind and body were overwhelmed by the onslaught of stimulation. Moving his tongue downwards, Tom deliberately pierced it on the tip, causing his tongue to sting a bit, a fat bead of blood emerging. The reaction was immediate as Harry gasped before giving a needy moan, his body arching up against Tom as he sealed his lips around the offered tongue and sucked hard, greedily drawing blood and gulping it down in a haste that made Tom worry he might choke, not a single drop spilled to waste.

Tom freed the captured hands in his grip and they were instantly put to good use, one tangling into his dark locks to keep his head in place, the other on the back of his neck, making sure he didn't leave. Putting his own hands into motion, Tom let them travel over the warming body under his, stroking over shoulders, down arms and across chest with open palms, well aware of what his actions would have caused had his little vampire not been too exhausted.

The eager sucking soon slowed to a more languid pace as the worst of the thirst was taken care of by Tom's potent and strong blood. The boy would no doubt need more pretty soon as he was far from fully recovered, but what he needed now was healing and Tom wouldn't mind getting rid of the dirt and blood that smeared his little vampire. Bringing his hands up, he stroked a dirty cheek and put his other hand to the boy's throat, keeping him in place and showing who was in control as he started drawing back. At first the boy tried to keep his tongue trapped but he slowly relented, giving a few languid sucks of the muscle before he released it and let Tom pull back.

Emerald eyes were clouded and sleepy, the thin body resting heavily on the soft sheets and his breath coming in slight pants. Tom continued stroking his face, now bringing both his hands into play, their bodies still pressed close together as his little vampire soaked up the warmth of human closeness. Eyelids became heavy and slipped shut, breathing evened out and deepened, and Tom placed a soft kiss to his little vampire's forehead, his thumb stroking over the mark he had left on the boy's neck as Harry drifted off to the sleep of the exhausted.

Straightening to sit on the edge of the mattress by the sleeping boy's side, he drew his wand and waved it over the boy, throwing a cleaning charm. He would much rather have given Harry a real bath and scrubbed him with soap but had to prioritize resting, so charms would have to suffice for the moment. The dirt and blood immediately disappeared along with the sweat, baring slightly tanned skin, his face pale after the ordeal he'd lived through, the clumps in his hair now gone to let the black stands spread more freely over the pillow.

Even though he was now clean, his body was still littered with bruises, cuts and wounds that he hadn't had the energy to heal, most of them now half-closed and none bleeding, but they were still there, blemishing his skin as a cruel reminder that Tom had been unable to protect his little vampire. Frowning, Voldemort leaned forward to put the tip of his wand against a small cut over a cheek, healing it until flawless skin was all that remained. He continued with the rest of the wounds he could see, no matter how small and insignificant, all of them were vanquished until all bared skin was once again unbroken. He then proceeded to strip Harry of his clothes, the torn tatters that remained of his shirt so that he could vanquish the blemishes on his narrow chest and the pants with the many holes to heal the injuries on his legs.

The dirty rags were levitated into the fire where they burned to ashes as Tom tried to burn the guilt he had yet to identify, still one of the many unfamiliar feelings that Harry evoked in him. Not wanting to let a single reminder remain, he even transfigured the boxers to a pair of grey sweatpants before he was satisfied with the result.

Seeing Harry lay there on the bed, resting after his many wounds had been healed, made Tom recall when his little vampire first had been taken to his mansion, a newly turned vampire and not yet fully in Voldemort's grasp. The wounds had not bothered the Dark Lord remarkably at the time, but it was different now, not at all the same, because now Harry was _his_ and no one had the right to dirty or break what belonged to him.

After having pulled up the soft sheets and the bedspread over the sleeping boy, he shrugged off his black outer robe and moved further up on the bed to lay down on top of the bedspread beside his little vampire. Putting an arm over the thin waist he pulled the boy close to his chest and put his chin atop black, messy hair. Feeling that his little vampire was still slightly cold he summoned an afghan from where it hung over the back of the divan by the fire and put it to rest over the end of the bed to provide extra warmth for Harry's legs and feet where Tom wouldn't reach as effectively with his warmth.

"Hmmn," the sleeping boy voiced, a murmur of appreciation coming over his lips and he snuggled closer to press himself into Tom's embrace, the vampire in him seeking warmth and his weary mind seeking comfort, both of which Tom readily provided.

With the knowledge that his little vampire was safe in his arms, Tom let himself follow Harry into the land of the sleeping.

XXX

It was Tuesday morning, one of many at Hogwarts, mainly no different from the multiple Tuesday mornings she'd already passed by in the halls and corridors of the old castle. Her dorm mates were the same, Lavender being her same insufferable self, the common room looking just like it always had except for some third year sleeping in an armchair with his cheek pressed against his transfiguration essay and ink stains on the nose. Her timetable looked the same, her shoulder bag was as packed with books as always and as far as she knew the same buffet of a breakfast would be served, the same students would sit by the four tables and the same teachers would watch over them from their own table.

Yet this morning wasn't the same because she was waiting, a feeling of suspense making her tense and edgy, her mood not helped by the fact that she'd been too stressed to be able to sleep properly the previous night, the evidence visible under her eyes as dark shadows. Her sleeplessness had woken her earlier then ever that morning, her anxious mind forcing her out of bed as she couldn't handle just lying there, impassive and without doing anything. After having showered, dressed and combed her hair into something akin to tameness it was still too early for breakfast to be served in the Great Hall, causing her to steer her steps through the silent and sleeping corridors to the kitchen hidden behind the painting of the giggling pear. The diligent house elves were clearly surprised to see her as it couldn't be usual for students to turn up at such an early hour, but they were no less happy to please her and for once she was too tired to protest or propagate freedom and equality.

She'd left the kitchen with a toast with orange marmalade in one hand, a cup of smoking hot tea in the other and her pockets stuffed with cinnamon rolls and other pastries she had no intention of putting anywhere near her mouth. Finding a secluded corner she'd decided to camp in a window recess overlooking the wet grounds surrounding Hogwarts, the Black Lake living up to its name as it reflected the dark clouds emptying their heavy burden over the world, the trees of the Forbidden Forest swaying in the wind and rain hammered rhythmically against the window panes.

Now, and hour after she'd first taken a seat on the floor she still sat huddled with her cape pulled tightly around her to ward against the chill of the morning, her toast and tea long since gone, her pockets emptied of pastries even thought she'd though wasn't going to eat them, the sugar sticky but sweet as it clung to her teeth. The tempus she'd cast a few minutes ago had shown that breakfast had been served but it was still about forty minutes until her first class would start.

It felt as if she had nothing to do, nowhere to go, and the tense feeling filling her chest was too much for her to contain, making it feel as if she was about to explode at any moment. Biting her lip and squeezing her eyes shut, she let her head fall back against the rough stone as she tried to suppress her explosive emotions, knowing she would snap soon if she didn't put a lock on them to keep them hidden away.

It scared her, having so many feelings pent up and not knowing what she would do if she released them.

A hand landed on her shoulder and she startled in chock, literarily jumping as her head snapped to the side, brown eyes impossibly wide as she stared at the Slytherin kneeling beside her, aristocratic features framed by pale hair and silver eyes seemingly filled with stars. For a distracted moment she thought there was something strange with those eyes, as if there was something important missing, something that had always been there and that she'd never expected to go away.

Disgust.

Disdain.

Arrogance.

Instead she found an unexpected softness, almost concern, and a kind of recognition, acknowledgement of what they shared.

She had always told herself that she didn't care for what Malfoy thought about her, that she didn't hear the foul words they'd shouted after her, but each time she'd heard, each time she'd seen their looks she'd felt pain and sadness, but she had denied it, learned to disregard it to make her life easier. Now she felt greatly relieved that those feelings were gone from Malfoy's eyes, and she felt light as if she could suddenly breathe unhindered again.

"I've talked to Severus," Malfoy said silently and her attention immediately snapped back into focus, the tense feeling making itself reminded in her chest, getting stronger the very moment those words left Malfoy's lips.

"He said they got him out yesterday night."

Brown eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat, the tenseness in her chest dissipating into a feeling of warmth.

"Voldemort came for him?" she whispered, not caring when Malfoy paled at the mention of the feared name.

"Yes," he croaked out and quickly cleared his throat to appear unfazed. "The Dark Lord saved him and is currently taking care of him at his mansion."

"Can we see him?" Hermione asked, leaning forwards in her eagerness, getting closer to the ferret then she even though she would want to be.

"No," he answered regretfully, shaking his head, obviously having asked the question himself. He didn't seem to notice their close proximity, and if he did, he didn't seem to mind. "Severus said that Elijah had to get better first as he is in a rather bad condition, but even when he is fully recovered he could not promise anything even to me. And since you're a muggleborn…"

He trailed off, leaving the end of the sentence unvoiced, but Hermione nodded, sitting back a bit to put distance between them again, understanding and suddenly rudely reminded of the differences between them. Of course, now that Elijah was no longer at Hogwarts her chances would be very slim of meeting him since she would have to put herself into immense danger only to approach him. If the Dark Lord was even close, it was unlikely that she would survive…

The hand that had been left on her shoulder squeezed slightly, and she focused her attention on Malfoy again.

"We'll fix something," he said reassuringly, a serious look in his eyes. "You're Elijah's friend as well, after all."

Brown eyes searched silver ones but all she could find was sincerity, and so she let a slight, wavering smile touch her lips as hope flickered in her eyes.

XXX

The slight smile still played on Hermione's lips when she walked for her first class of the day, her chest feeling light and her shoulder bag a reassuring weight as it bumped against her hip at every step she took. The students who'd been quick to leave breakfast were starting to populate the corridors with her, some wearing tired and resigned looks, others looking determined or interested, depending on if the person appreciated school or not.

But today there was something different, something standing out from the normality of most mornings at Hogwarts. Usually, the first students walking through the corridors were alone, in a few cases walking in pairs, the studious part of the student body who prioritized books before socializing. But today, every student she saw was walking with someone, small groups of students on their way to class, looking around with a shadow of fear in their eyes as if they expected someone to jump out behind the next corner and attack. When they saw her they frowned and looked at her strangely, seemingly wondering how she dared walk alone and why ever she could be smiling. The open speculation and spreading of rumours had been silenced, the loud questions for answered reduced to hushed whispers as if the scared students were afraid of being heard, as if they thought whatever they talked about would become true if voiced aloud.

Hermione frowned, speeding up her pace a bit on her way towards the classroom, thoughts whirling about in her head. Something must have happened at breakfast, the meal in the Great Hall being the only explanation as the Great Hall was the only place where news could travel fast enough between the four houses, but the question of _what_ had happened still remained. From the fearful looks the students wore she could easily conclude that it was something serious, but she could not imagine what that would be, and if there was something she hated, it was not knowing.

When she arrived at the classroom she had gained such speed that she slid through the door, skidding to a stop a few metres in. It was still about fifteen minutes until their class was scheduled to start, and she was therefore surprised to find Neville sitting by one of the benches, especially since he was alone when no one else seemed to want to be without company. His round face was unhealthily pale and his eyes wide with a hollowness in them that Hermione never would have thought the good-natured boy could ever express. His back was stiff and his eyes stared blindly straight forward, a copy of what seemed to be the Daily Prophet crumbled in his harsh grip, as if the paper was the cause of his misery.

"Neville?" she asked softly, making the boy jump in his seat as he was startled by her presence.

"H- Hermione?" he stammered uncertainly, surprised but also pained eyes turning to her where she lingered by the door, her hair in wild disarray from her march.

"Has anything happened?" she inquired, wondering what could have awoken the pain in the eyes of her clumsy friend and temporarily forgetting that she had been seeking for answers to what could have happened to change the other students' behaviour so drastically.

Wide eyes blinked, disbelief seeping into them as he swallowed thickly. "You… You don't know?"

Hermione shook her head, and an expression of confusion and surprise crossing his round face before he loosened his grip on the wrinkled paper and handed it towards her. She crossed the room and took the paper from his hand, smoothing the worst wrinkles to make it readable as she held it up in front of her to read the headline.

_HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED IS BACK_

XXX

The air was crisp and the blue sky clear, the sun warming the students where they sat in the grass with parchment and quill at hand, working more or less diligently under the supervision of professor Grubbly-Plank, quite a few taking the chance to lay back and enjoy the sun when her back was turned. Hermione herself lay comfortably on her belly in the vividly green grass, distractedly kicking her heals back and forth as she read through the pages about Bowtruckles a third time to see if there was anything she had missed that needed to be added to her sketch, neat paragraphs surrounding the simple picture of the stick-like creature. Ron, Seamus and Dean were a few meters away, having discarded their half finished sketches in favor of tumbling around in a mock fight.

The heavy atmosphere of the morning had lifted a bit, most students behaving their usual self as they were reminded of the fact that they were in Hogwarts under the protection of Dumbledore, making them feel safe as the threat and danger was kept outside of the castle grounds. The biggest change that remained was that the Gryffindors had more suspicion in their eyes then ever before when looking at the Slytherins with which they shared the class, the students in green looking unfazed and unsurprised by what had happened. Of course, most of them had been aware from the very beginning that Voldemort was back, so for them it was most likely unsurprising that the Dark Lord could accomplish a breakout. Those who were most chocked were, after all, those who'd believed the Daily Prophet instead of Harry and Dumbledore, those who'd stubbornly refused to believe that Voldemort had returned.

"Okay, class, the lesson is over!" professor Grubbly-Plank stated, drawing everyone's attention and delighted sighs from a few. "Those who have yet to finish their sketch and description of the Bowtruckle will get it as homework for next week."

The announcement was met by groans, especially laud ones coming from Ron who lay defeated under Seamus, and Hermione rolled her eyes in turn. Did he really believe he wouldn't have to do the assignment simply because he neglected working during classes?

She quickly broke that train of thought, however, as she spotted platinum blonde hair moving in the periphery of her sight. Hastily gathering her parchment and stuffing her things into her already full shoulder bag, she practically jumped up from her position and hurried after the retreating forms of the Slytherins.

"Malfoy!" she shouted, hoping to stop them so that she wouldn't have to run, and she was surprised when the blonde actually paused and halfway turned towards her, his brows lifted in question. The other Slytherins around him looked down at her in dislike, save for Malfoy's closest friends who'd also been close to Harry, as they had grown too used to her presence to care about her status as a muggleborn.

"I'd like to talk to you," she said as soon as she was close enough to be heard without having to shout. "Privately," she added with a glance at the others.

Draco hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, glancing at his friends before giving a short nod and turning completely to the Gryffindor girl, showing that he was willing to talk. Nodding as answer, perhaps as thanks, perhaps in some sort of agreement, Hermione led him away from the others, towards the castle of Hogwarts until they reached a small, private courtyard with a tree breaking through the flagstones in the middle of the round area, its green leaves fading to a pale yellow, a few fallen leaves already resting on the ground. The courtyard was located in a corner of the castle, part of two castle walls enclosing the yard on one side, the other side closed off by high evergreen hedges that shielded them from view and effectively hid the yards existence.

Hermione walked over to the old stone bench placed against the castle wall, the rough stone of the castle serving as backrest, the old stone of the bench smooth and worn after many years of the weather's insistent polishing, warmed by the sun that barely seemed to reach over the hedges. Malfoy leaned back against the trunk of the tree, a stray hair of silver falling into his eyes only to be pushed back again with a practiced motion of the hand. Due to the size of the yard, they were only a couple of metres from each other, a comfortable distance that was neither reserved nor intimate.

"What did you want to talk about, Granger?" Malfoy asked, not unkindly but without any real warmth in his tone. It was as if they were neither friends nor enemies, as if they'd ended up somewhere in an unnamed borderland.

"The breakout," she began, her brown eyes searching starlight ones for a reaction. "You only said Elijah had been saved – did you know about the others as well?"

The Slytherin shook his head as answer, and Hermione found herself somewhat surprised that he actually did answer her, that he didn't evade the question or gave some biting retort instead. She realized she still didn't trust him, and immediately decided she needed to change that perception, at least partly so that she would be able to trust him with normal conversation and information.

"All I knew when we talked this morning was what Snape had told me," Malfoy assured calmly. "It wasn't until later, when I saw the Prophet, that I was informed of the others' escape."

Hermione found herself relieved that Malfoy had been completely honest to her when they'd talked that morning, relieved that he hadn't kept any information from her, and she felt a slight smile curve her lips and her gaze warm a bit as she looked at the blonde. It felt good to know that there was someone she could talk to as she hadn't really had anyone to confide in since Harry had left, Ron being her only close remaining friend but they were growing apart, the vast differences between them becoming more obvious then ever now that Harry was no longer there to work as a filter between them. Before the school year had started they'd grown closer in they shared worry for Harry, but when they'd arrived at Hogwarts, Ron had favoured the company of Seamus and Dean, only talking to Hermione when he was reminded of her existence. His behaviour towards "Elijah" and the fact that Hermione knew the truth of what had happened to Harry pushed them further apart, and bushy-haired girl didn't think they would ever be able to go back to the way things used to be.

"I must admit I breathed a sigh of relief when the Prophet didn't mention Elijah," Malfoy said, making Hermione refocus her attention on the conversation. "It would have made it clear of his alliances and our work at spreading word of his _innocence_ would have been for nought."

"Do you have any idea as to why they didn't? I imagine it would make a good story; Hogwarts student turning out to be a vampire, not to mention being important enough to Voldemort to be saved from Azkaban."

"I can't be sure but I have a guess," the Slytherin said with a shrug, a gesture Hermione found uncharacteristic for the usually so proud and poised Malfoy heir. "By law, Elijah should have been killed for being a vampire, so it would not look too good if he was granted a lifetime in Azkaban instead of the death penalty. Therefore, I would not be surprised if he was never even registered as a prisoner, meaning no one but the guards on duty were aware that he was there – the very same guards who are now dead."

Hermione nodded, silently agreeing that it was a plausible theory and not feeling the least bit of doubt that their society was corrupted enough for something like that to happen.

"Our authorities really are worthless," she voiced her thoughts aloud, her brown eyes lost as she gazed blindly at the evergreen hedges. "Dumbledore and Harry warned them already last year that Voldemort had returned. Had they only listened, they wouldn't have been taken aback by this, they could have prepared and the chaos that is sure to break out could have been avoided." She practically spat the words, her tone full of dislike with a hint of disgust, her brown eyes narrowed.

Malfoy watched her quietly, impassively, keeping his thoughts on the matter to himself. Hermione shook her head, wondering why it had taken her so long to realize that their society needed to change. Voldemort's way of changing it might be wrong, his very goals and reasons to change were wrong, but he was right in the fact that change was needed. And maybe, just maybe, Voldemort's way of doing it was the only way with a possibility to succeed – and Hermione knew just how forbidden such thoughts were.

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, cleansing her mind of all thoughts, well aware that she would have to think of the matter and reach a decision fairly soon, but unwilling to do so at the moment. It was too important, too life changing, too… _big_. For once she could agree with the saying "ignorance is bliss", a saying she had always detested but now saw the benefits of. Had she not known that Dumbledore wasn't the man she'd thought him to be, had Harry not joined Voldemort, had everything been the same… Well, then everything would have been the same, and she would have been blissfully unaware that what she took for fact value might not be true at all.

Shaking her head resolutely she efficiently pushed the thoughts to the back of her mind and stood from the stone bench, noticing that Malfoy was looking at her with something she couldn't identify sparkling in his silver eyes. She took a deep breath and answered his look with a slightly shaky smile, feeling as if she wanted to assure him that she was okay even thought he most likely didn't care.

"Are you okay, Granger?"

Hermione blinked in surprise, barely stopping her yaw from slackening in shock as the words she'd just dismissed as impossible left the Malfoy heir.

"I'm… fine. Just fine," she answered and renewed her hesitant smile, feeling it widen a bit now that the blonde had shown tendencies of caring. "Just a bit much to think about, that's all."

Malfoy gave a simple nod before turning away from her to leave the hidden yard, but he paused in his retreat and glanced at her over his shoulder, silver hair gaining a golden touch from the sunlight.

As no words came from the silent form, Hermione smiled amusedly and said the words herself.

"I guess I'll see you around?"

Those words were most likely not the words Malfoy would have spoken, they were far too informal and simple. No, he would have said something that made him sound like a true aristocrat, something formal and pompous, but Hermione was quite sure it would still have meant largely the same thing.

"Of course, Granger," Malfoy answered with a slight smile and nodded to her before he walked through the narrow and concealed path between the bushes, disappearing from view. Hermione stayed in the little courtyard for a while, a silly little smile on her lips as she stood in the shadow of the tree, breathing in the cool autumn air. When she did leave the hidden yard, she felt at ease, knowing that she had a difficult and important decision to make but filled with the perhaps faulty knowledge that she didn't have to take care of it right now. For a moment she could allow herself to relax, she would push all problems aside of a later date and enjoy the wonderful day.

Her care freeness didn't survive long however, as she was approached by an irate redhead as soon as she entered the Great Hall, his face red and his eyes narrowed in anger as he stomped towards her with his fists clenched at his sides. At the sight of him she felt herself growing defensive, her eyes narrowing and a frown furrowing her brows. Whatever did he want now?

"What do you think you're _doing_?" Ron hissed angrily as soon as he was close enough, coming to a halt no more then a step away from her, his finger pointed at her accusingly.

"Whatever are you talking about, Ron?" she answered, her irritation clear in her voice.

"With the ferret!" he exclaimed loudly, making people turn to look at them in interest, a few already leaning towards their friends and whispering.

"His name is Malfoy!" she answered angrily, not sure why she was defending the Slytherin against her own friend but feeling the anger burn hotly in her chest at Ron's mockery.

"You just run away with him to Merlin knows where even though you know that he's a follower of You-Know-Who! What if he'd done something to you?" Ron continued, acting as if he hadn't even heard Hermione.

"Done something? Done what exactly, Ron? Do you think he would kill me for being a muggleborn? Cast a _Cruciatus_ at me and watch me suffer? Can you really think such things of him when he is a fellow student, no different from us?"

"No different? _No different_? How can you claim something like that knowing he is a Death Eater?"

"Well, last time you claimed someone was a Death Eater it was Elijah you attacked, was it not? And what happened to him? He saved your sorry arse! If it hadn't been for him you would have been dead!"

"_So what_? He was still nothing but a bloody beast!"

The beat of a fist connecting with skin sounded through the silent hall as Ron staggered back a few steps, staring at her in shock as he slowly lifted his hand to his split lip, flinching as his fingers probed the wound before staring at the blood in disbelief, unable to comprehend that Hermione had punched him.

The Gryffindor girl stood before him, her jaw set and her back stiff as her clenched fist trembled by her side, barely able to contain the rage coursing through her veins.

"I cannot believe I have called such a narrow-minded and ungrateful prick my friend," she said quietly, her words barely above a whisper yet carrying through the hall with ease as there were no other sounds to drown them.

Turning to the side, meaning to leave the hall to find some kind of vent for her anger, she happened to lock eyes with a pair of star-filled orbs sitting by the wall. They stared at each other for several long moments that seemed to stretch into eternity, silent communication they didn't fully understand passing between them before Malfoy scooted to the side, leaving a spot on the bench beside him. In the heat of the moment, Hermione did something she very seldom did – she took a decision before thinking it through properly, letting her anger decide for her.

Glancing at Ron, she hissed "I'm through with you," and walked over the Slytherin table as every student in the Great Hall stared to see the muggleborn Gryffindor claim a seat between the proud Malfoy heir and the Slytherin Queen Parkinsson. As she sat down her eyes sought Ron where he stood between the doors leading to the Entrance Hall and the end of the Gryffindor table with an enraged look on his features, and she felt a smile of dark satisfaction curl her lips.

Perhaps she did not always have to think so much before making decisions.

_That's it!_

_See you at the review page! ;P _


	30. Chapter 30

**Sorry it's taken such a long time to get this chapter finished, school and homework's killing me =,=' Hopefully it will get better soon and I'll have more energy left to put into writing :)**

The leaves of the many trees of the Forbidden Forest turned yellow, orange and crimson with blackened edges, creating a colourful display of the autumn's splendour. Fallen leaves were spreading over the castle grounds, specks of colour against the sea of green grass, orange and red whirling around in the wind, dancing in circles. The air had grown chilled and crisp, the cold wind causing slight waves to ripple over the dark surface of the Black Lake. The students populating Hogwarts put on an extra layer of clothes to ward off the chill as it crept into the old and draughty hallways of the stone castle, the fires burning all day, continually fed with more fuel by the house elves.

Owls came and went more often then before, filling the Great Hall both at breakfast and dinner, sometimes even at lunch as families were eager to assure themselves of their children's safety, the children in turn wanting to know of what happened in the world outside of the castle. Each number of the Daily Prophet was studied religiously in search for information of what Voldemort planned now that he was back, everyone waiting with baited breath for a report of a raid or attack or a mysterious disappearance. But the journalists seemed as oblivious as the readers on the matter, instead opting to report on the political changes that were underway as Fudge's capability as a Minister in wartime was discussed – he was, after all, the one who had wrongly denied You-Know-Who's resurrection before the summer.

Hermione watched the commotion with a strange sense of detachment. She'd written a letter to her parents but it didn't say anything specific of the war, just a simple update of what she did in school, what grades she received and that she was growing closer to Malfoy but no longer gained any enjoyment from Ron's company, sad as it was when thinking of the fact that they'd been friends for about four years. She'd also sent an owl to Molly and Arthur Weasley to make sure that everything was okay with them and the rest of the Weasley family since they were a kind of substitute family for her here in the wizarding world.

Other then those two letters she didn't participate in the commotion regarding Voldemort's return, feeling like a bystander watching from afar without participating. Her housemates in Gryffindor looked at her strangely because of her detachment, thinking she should engage herself in the conflict and fight wholeheartedly for the "Light" because she was a muggleborn, making her feel like a stranger, like she didn't fit in among the red clad students who seemed eager to fight against Voldemort. Did they even know what they were fighting for? Did they know that their Ministry was corrupt and too old-fashioned? That their beloved headmaster wasn't as saintly as he appeared to be? That Dumbledore was ready to send a student to a living hell in Azkaban? Perhaps they did. Perhaps they didn't care at all.

Her involvement with the Slytherins further estranged her from the Gryffindors as the lions of Hogwarts seemed to view every Slytherin as an embodiment of pure evil, seemingly expecting one of the green clad students to be revealed as Voldemort in disguise. Fights between the two houses became more usual and violent, and both houses had lost house points as the teachers fruitlessly tried to put and end to the fights.

While she grew further and further apart from the Gryffindors she grew closer to the group of Slytherins who'd been close to "Elijah". When she'd first walked over to join them by the green table in the Great Hall, they had all glanced at her in slight dislike, quite obviously thinking she had no right to dirty the benches by placing her mudblooded ass on it, but during the week that had passed since Harry was saved by Voldemort from Azkaban they had grown to accept her, her close friendship with "Elijah" and Malfoy's acknowledgement no doubt helping her cause.

Surprisingly, Pansy Parkinsson was the first to accept her after Malfoy, the vain witch proving to be surprisingly mischievous and prone to plan pranks, making Hermione suspect that she would get along with the Weasley twins quite well or start a remarkable prank war. For some reason, Hermione found herself being the focus of the witch's attention as Parkinsson seemed to have made it into her quest to make Hermione more feminine, scrubbing the ink stains off her hands and painting her fingernails already on the second day of their strange sort of association. By now, the Slytherin girl was trying to come up with some good plan to tame Hermione's hair, but the Gryffindor strongly doubted she would succeed.

All in all, it made the upcoming war feel far off to Hermione, almost as if it was unimportant, and she found herself enjoying the relatively trouble free period of time. Knowing that the time without troubles was likely to come to and end rather soon, she cherished it and tried to enjoy it to the fullest.

Soon, she would have to decide where she truly stood in this war.

Many miles away, a feared wizard stalked through the corridors of a grand minor with many windows showing the autumn scenery of a beautiful garden with leaves swimming on the surface of a fountain. His robes billowed ominously behind him, his crimson eyes staring straight forward as he walked from the meeting he'd just had with some of his most loyal Death Eaters, most of which had been saved from Azkaban on the same night as he had saved Harry. Saving his imprisoned followers had been more of an afterthought then anything else and he hadn't been sure enough of Harry's stability until now to leave his rooms long enough for a meeting.

For him, this was not a time to cherish. True, he did enjoy the submissiveness of Harry's vampiric side, but he would much rather see his little vampire fully sane again with his human mind in control. The sooner this time of waiting and nursing came to an end, the better.

XXX

The first sense that returned to him were feelings. The feeling of being safe and protected, a strong presence always hovering close, seldom leaving and only ever for short intervals of time. He felt no pain, only comfort and warmth, he wasn't hungry and didn't suffer from thirst, neither normal thirst nor the one for blood. He could fleetingly feel the touch of someone holding him, touching and feeling him, and as he grew more aware he felt the touches become more substantial then a distant sensation.

After that came hearing, at first only a vague impression of the silence not being completely silent, then the awareness of actual sound. The rustling of cloth, the muted creak of the springs in a bed, running water, clatter from utensils and words he couldn't fully comprehend. Sometimes he could hear the crackling of fire, sometimes the rustling of wind or chirping of birds as if a window had been opened, a slight breeze stroking his cheek and playing with his hair.

Then smell and taste came, practically at the same time, the smell of food accompanied by the taste, cool water washing over his tongue and down his throat, the smell of burning wood, of the crisp autumn air, of soap and shampoo as he took a bath... or was bathed, based on the feeling of being held and taken cared of, hands washing and scrubbing. The smell of the one always close, the contradictive smell of blood, death and cleanness, masculine and comforting, amplifying his sense of safety. And most importantly, the taste of blood, always accompanied with the smell of the one protecting him, so rich and potent like a finely aged wine, filled to the brim with magic, a strong, almost spicy taste, mature like the taste of the darkest chocolate, the very magic in the life-giving liquid filled with darkness.

Lastly, sight came to him, flickering on and off like a light switch, giving glimpses of his surroundings that he couldn't fully comprehend or register, just observe mindlessly. The blurred picture of a face of classical handsomeness, with sharp features and eyes filled with blood watching him intently. Hands reaching out to him, food placed before him, flickering flames and pristine sheets. It was what his world consisted off as he rested peacefully in his own mind, knowing that someone else would take care of him when he didn't have the power to do so himself.

He could hear the crackle of a fire and the light scratching of a quill moving over parchment, the smell of burnt wood and his protector heavy in the air with a hint of ink, the smell just barely strong enough for him to be able to pick up. He blinked his eyes open and was met with sight of one of the white pillows, the cushion smelling strongly of his protector and making Harry bury his nose in it to inhale more of the smell that made him feel so utterly safe and protected. After a few moments of peace he blinked and furrowed his brows in confusion, realizing the world should have blinked out of existence again and that he was more aware then before, his thoughts still sluggish but at least coherent.

With a secure grip of the pillow and his nose still connected to it he rolled over onto his back, the mattress, pillows and covers cushioning him form all sides, his drowsy gaze finding a grand bedroom illuminated by the golden rays that slanted in through the windows at his right side. Opposite to the bed stood a fireplace hosting the crackling fire, a divan of dark finely carved wood standing sidelong the fireplace, facing it and its green velvet-clad back throwing dark shadows across the floor. A door stood slightly ajar beside the fireplace, only open enough to let through the sound of the quill's scraping, another door standing on the other side of the fireplace, closed and mysterious. A grand wardrobe in richly ornamented dark wood stood against the wall to the left and a big mirror stood in the corner, reflecting the light of the fireplace.

Blinking slowly he turned his head back and forth where it rested on the soft pillows, slowly taking in the sight of the luxurious bedroom, trying to comprehend whatever he was doing in such a nice place. Absentmindedly raising his hand he reached up and scratched his head, mussing his short and already messy hair…

Sitting up straight with a start he brought the other hand onto his head to feel the short and messy hair, to confirm that it was indeed not long and well-behaved. One of his hands travelled downwards, to his forehead where he let his fingers stroke over the expanse of skin, finding an uneven area in the shape of a lightning bolt. His heart beat wildly in his chest, his emerald eyes wide as he breathed quickly, unable to piece the puzzle together. Had they found out who he was? Was that why the glamour was gone? But where was he? Shouldn't he be in the Gryffindor dorm or some other room at the school, or back at the Dursely's, or…

His trail of thought dissolved as the memories returned, Azkaban with the Dementors and the unrelenting darkness flashing by in his mind, making his whole being freeze in fear and dread, his complexion paling. But then Tom came, at the time cloaked and unrecognizable to his distressed mind, reaching up to him and saving him from hell on earth. He realized Tom was his protector, the one who'd cared for him, given him blood and warmth, bathed him and fed him, only ever leaving him for short amounts of time so that he wouldn't have to be alone.

A light smile touched his lips and warmth bloomed in his chest, a warmth that shouldn't have been there since his body was unable to warm itself properly. Still, his face burned hotly as he recalled the times when he'd been obedient in Tom's hands as the man had bather his naked body and when he'd been moaning wantonly at the taste of blood. He hugged the pillow closer to his chest and buried his face in it, hiding his shame from the world. How was he ever going to be able to face Tom now, after the way he'd behaved while his vampire was in control?

"Harry?"

He froze where he sat, his legs pulled up against his chest and his face buried in the pillow that smelled like Tom, all the while cursing himself for being too caught up in his thoughts to hear the scratching of the quill fall silent or the steps approach, or smell the deadly yet comforting odour of Tom getting stronger as the man came closer. He didn't dare move as he had no idea of how to face the man, yet he itched to see him, to make sure that he actually was back with Tom and away from the hell he'd suffered through. Opting for a compromise he lifted his head a bit, just enough to look over the pillow, the rest of his flaming face still hidden and his emerald eyes shaded by his black fringe.

Tom stood on the threshold of the door that had been ajar, his dark hair given highlights and his handsome face with its classical features lit by the flames and the golden sunlight, a miniature fire dancing in his crimson eyes. There was relief in those eyes, along with protectiveness, possessiveness and something unexpected that surprised Harry: worry.

"Have you regained your sanity?" Tom asked quietly, his voice emotionless but his eyes searching Harry's face as if checking if there was something wrong.

Harry felt his face heat further at the mention of Tom's care for him while he'd been withdrawn from the world.

"Yes," he mumbled, ducking his head to hide behind his black fringe. "Thanks to you," he mumbled into the pillow, his words muffled and barely audible but filled with heartfelt gratitude. He glanced up through the black curtain of his hair and found Tom lingering by the door as if unsure of what to do, one hand resting against the doorframe, the other hanging limply by his side.

"How are you feeling?" Tom asked after a moment of awkward silence, sounding confident as if it was the normal thing to ask, yet baffling Harry as it seemed completely out of character for the _Dark_ _Lord_ to ask such a thing.

"I'm… I'm good", he answered before reaching out towards Tom with one hand, the other still clutching the pillow, the daring move shocking himself even though it felt oddly… right.

Tom remained still, staring at him intensely without showing any sigh that he was about to comply with Harry's silent plead, and Harry flushed, his certainty wavering as he let his hand fall to the bedspread while he turned to the side, not wanting Tom to see him all feeble and soft, yearning for closeness to make sure that he was safe again. A heavy, hard clump formed in his chest, making him feel weak and sickly, bringing tears to his eyes. Why did he have to be so weak and pathetic? Everything should be fine now that he had been saved, so why was he behaving this way?

The mattress dipped as new weight was added and a strong arm was latched around his thin shoulders pulling him into a comforting embrace against Tom's black clad chest. The clump dissolved, the urge to cry going with it as long fingers combed through his hair, the closeness assuring his that he really was safe, that nothing would be allowed to happed to him. He closed his eyes and gratefully leaned into the embrace, his body relaxing as he breathed in the masculine smell of death that he found so reassuring.

"Tell me," Tom murmured, his words spoken softly yet clearly an order.

Harry pushed his head against the black robes, his hands grabbing the soft fabric, the pillow forgotten beside them on the mattress. He didn't want to tell, didn't want to bring forth all the horrible memories. All he wanted was to be safe, to forget and enjoy the warmth and closeness, yet he knew Tom wouldn't take no for and answer. Not to mention that he owed it to him since he'd patiently taken care of him for the last…

"How long?" he whispered. "For how long was I… gone?"

The hand tightened almost painfully in his hair before loosing its grip again as Tom was restraining his temper.

"A little over a week," he answered with forced calm, and Harry's eyes snapped open along with is mouth as he was about to voice his disbelief. "Now tell me what happened, my little vampire."

The pet name sounded familiar and easy when it left Tom's lips and Harry found himself comforted by it even though he knew he would never have accepted it under normal circumstances. Now, it only worked to assure him that Tom would always be there to protect him when it was needed, and if it would ever be needed it was now.

"Can't you just… look?" he asked quietly, still unwilling to bring up the bad memories.

"I must admit I would usually revel in the opportunity to look into your mind, but I am afraid the method will not be sufficient in this case, Harry."

Harry sighed, already admitting defeat. "What do you want to know?" he asked in resignation.

"Everything," Tom answered possessively, making it clear that he had every right to know exactly what happened to Harry at all times.

Harry gave a slow nod and took a deep breath, gathering his courage to recall the painful memories, even the smallest and darkest details. "Ronald Weasley hated me from the very first time he saw me because I was in the company of Draco, and he confronted me several times in school, thinking I was somehow the cause of all bad. We often fought, and of course we got Dumbledore's attention after a while, making the old man give us detention together in the Forbidden Forest…"

He let his eyes slip shut as he retold what had happened after they'd entered the darkness of the Forbidden Forest, his mouth working to produce the words as his mind went through the memories, the story pouring over his lips in a strident stream, every word taking some small amount of fear and uncertainty with it. At first the recollections pained him and made him shiver in Tom's arms, too tired to care that he appeared weak, his eyes squeezed shut as he tired to prevent any tears from escaping. But the pain slowly subsided as Tom's hand moved down to rest cupped around his neck, keeping him safely in place as if the arm over his back wasn't sufficient for that. When he was finished he felt like a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders, and he grudgingly admitted that Tom had been right to make him tell everything.

For a few minutes they were silent, listening to the crackling fire and the soft breaths of the other as Tom's long fingers played with the fine hairs in Harry's neck. When Tom did speak, it was in a soft, low tone that could have lulled Harry to sleep.

"Your trunk with all of your things are in my possession, admittedly thanks to the quick thinking of your 'friends', but your wand is unfortunately lost as it was snapped in half by the Aurors who imprisoned you."

Harry felt a stab of sorrow at the loss of his wand but quickly redirected his thoughts in order to stop himself from falling into depression now that he had finally regained his sanity.

"My friends? You mean Draco?" he asked, wondering if the other friends Tom was talking about could be Pansy, Teo and Blaise.

"Yes, I do believe Severus reported that it was Malfoy Jr. and the mudblood Gryffindor girl who claimed possession of your things and gave them to Severus in order to keep them from the Aurors should they decide to search your belongings."

A small smile of gratitude and relief curled Harry's lips, but when he looked up at Tom his eyes were narrowed and the smile was nowhere to be seen.

"You will not talk about Hermione like that," he demanded, knowing he was really not in any position to give orders to the Dark Lord but needing to stand up for his friend.

"I can see no reason to why I should not," Tom answered rather haughtily, looking down his nose at Harry as his fingers pulled at the black hairs in warning.

_It should be enough that she's my friend_, Harry thought darkly but kept the thought to himself, knowing it would be discarded as meritless as soon as it left his lips. "She's the most intelligent student at Hogwarts and holds great potential," he stated instead, trying to come up with arguments that would have merit to Tom. "She's been faithful to me and kept my secrets to herself, not to mention that she acted to _help_ me after I was imprisoned. If going by the views of the _Light_ she would have no obligation whatsoever to aid me."

"Fact remains that she is-"

"Yes I know she's a _muggleborn_, but so what? My mother was a muggleborn but she's been recognized as a great witch!"

"Muggles are below us – we are the superior race," Tom all but hissed.

"I understand that – I don't agree, but I do understand your reasoning that muggles are lesser beings or whatever because they have no magic, making us more powerful and therefore putting us above them. But how does that apply to muggleborns who do have magic? They're just as powerful as any pureblood!"

Tom stared at him coldly, his crimson eyes narrowed and looking more like captured blood then ever before, his hand gripping Harry's neck painfully, surely leaving bruises as the man restrained himself from answering disobedience with curses as he usually did. Harry's inner vampire wanted to whine and show his neck in a display of submission to the man it had accepted as its better, but Harry ignored it and met the glare head on, refusing to let the bruising grip affect him or bully him into backing off.

The hand gripping his neck was suddenly withdrawn and Tom stood from the bed abruptly, making Harry fall on his face in the afghan, a pang of loss hitting him hard as the warmth and comfort of closeness was withdrawn. Looking up he found Tom walking to the door through which he'd come, his back stiff and posture tense as he was obviously unhappy with the development.

"We will not have this discussion while you are still weakened," he stated coldly, giving Harry the impression that the Dark Lord wanted him fit and healthy to be able to survive the curses that would be aimed at him when Tom lost him temper.

"Your trunk is in the wardrobe," he continued, his back still turned to Harry. "You will not be able to venture outside of my rooms for safety reasons as there are Death Eaters in the mansion."

The door closed behind the Dark Lord with a little more force then necessary, betraying just how angry the man was, and Harry was left abandoned in the middle of the big bed, surrounded by soft sheets and plush pillows yet left feeling cold. Guilt made itself known, making him wonder why he'd had to start a fight when he'd barely spent any time at all with the man who'd saved him and patiently taken care of him. He'd barely thanked Tom, hadn't properly showed how grateful he truly was, and now he'd made his protector so angry he'd been forced to leave to prevent himself from seriously injuring Harry.

Yet even as he thought this, he knew he was right, knew he would do it again if the question was brought up because he simply couldn't accept that one of his friends was insulted and looked down upon simply because her parents were muggles. She was the most brilliant and intelligent witch he'd ever met, and yet they wouldn't accept her simply because of her _blood_. It was simply astounding how thick and simpleminded Tom could be even though he was so knowledgeable and intellectual.

Curling up on the bed he pulled the covers and pillows closer, practically burying himself as he created a sort of nest around himself where he could hide and feel protected. He closed his eyes and gave permission to feel a bit sorry for himself, his thoughts slowly turning into an incomprehensive mumble before he drifted off and fell asleep.

XXX

A hand was grasping his shoulder lightly, shaking him gently but persistently to wake him. He groaned and tried to batter the hand away, wanting to stay asleep in the soft and relatively warm cocoon he'd made for himself.

"Minxy is sorry for waking young mister Potter, she really is, but young mister Potter needs food to get better, Minxy knows," a hushed, high-pitched voice said just by his ear, making him blink his eyes open in confusion, finding big, round eyes staring at him with worry.

"Minxy," he croaked, his voice hoarse with sleep.

"Minxy has made breakfast for young mister Potter, sir. Young mister Potter needs to eat!" she said with an authority in her voice that he'd never heard from a house elf before.

"I'm up," he mumbled sleepily and yawned hugely as he sat up. His nose caught the smell of bread, beacon, egg, butter, oranges and porridge with almonds. "And I'll definitely eat," he added with a bit more enthusiasm, his stomach giving a low grumble to show that it agreed.

As soon as Minxy had placed the food before him on the bed he dug in, making sounds of appreciation to show the elf how much he liked her cooking, and when he looked up at her he found a face splitting smile stretching from one ear to another, her eyes shining and her small chest inflated to show how proud she was.

"Minxy has been missing young mister Potter, sir, and has been much worried for mister Potter, much worried, indeed!"

Harry stared at her for a moment before putting the spoon down and reaching over to the small creature, pulling her close in a hug that made her squeak in surprise. It felt a lot like hugging a teddy bear, but the body was more set, compact, and it held the warmth of a living being, the chest inflating and deflating as the house elf breathed. After a moment of hesitation, long, thin arms closed around him to return the hug.

"It is very good to have you back, mister Potter, sir," she said warmly.

"It's good to be back, Minxy," he answered. He gave a bittersweet smile, grateful that she cared for him and worried when she couldn't watch out for him, all the while realizing that she couldn't possibly replace Tom.

"But you still have to eat, young mister Potter," Minxy added factually, patting him on the back before letting go to have him eat the rest of the meal. While he ate she bustled around the room, dusting imaginary dust, feeding more fuel to the fire, opening the window a bit to let in some of the crisp, clean autumn air and somehow managing to make the bed even as he sat on it.

Once finished he went over to the wardrobe to confirm that his trunk was there, wanting to make himself at home even as he wondered why he wasn't in his old room. Opening the doors of finely carved wood, he found black robes, black dressing pants and button up shirts in black and the occasional white. His trunk, however, was nowhere to be seen. Figuring Tom had put it in one of the drawers he opened them as well, finding the grey sweatpants he used in an otherwise empty drawer and underwear – but no trunk.

"Minxy?" he asked, turning to look at the house elf over his shoulder as she gathered the dishes and smoothed out the cover he'd been sitting on, apparently not completely content with how the bedding looked.

"Yes, mister Potter?" she asked attentively.

"Where is my trunk? Tom said it would be here."

"Young mister Potter's Hogwarts trunk, sir? Yes, it is in the wardrobe, just like Master has said."

"But where? I can't find it."

Huge eyes blinked a few times before she came over, closed the drawer with underwear he'd left open and opened the doors, picking out a miniature of his trunk that had stood under the hanging robes, the trunk so small it would easily fit in one's pocket. Harry reached out for it but stopped himself with his hand midair, remembering with a pang of loss that he no longer had a wand, and he had no idea how to enlarge objects wandlessly. Poke it? Tap the lid with a knuckle?

"Erhm, could you enlarge it for me, Minxy?" he asked glumly, making Minxy give him a look full of empathy as if she knew exactly how it felt to lose one's wand.

"Yes, mister Potter, of course," she assured and put the trunk down by the foot of the bed before rapping the lid with her knuckles, making the trunk swell to its normal size, the lid popping open in the process to show his clothes neatly folded and put in order. He gave a slight smile at the sight, wondering fleetingly if Hermione or Draco was the one who'd decided to impose order among his poor clothes as the garments had never before seen anything like it.

"If there anything else Minxy can do for young mister?"

"No, thank you," Harry answered with a lopsided smile as he kneeled by the trunk, starting to pick out his clothes, wondering if he would put them in the drawer with the sweatpants. "Do you think I could use the wardrobe?"

"Yes, of course, mister Potter!" she answered, happy to be of help. "Mister Potter will call for Minxy if he needs anything, yes?"

"Sure," he promised and Minxy summoned the dishes to her before bowing and popping out of the room, leaving Harry alone with his things and a sinking feeling. How would he be able to perform magic without his wand? Sure, he'd trained some wandless magic the past months but it was all simple charms and he could never be sure if they would work or not. He'd never be able to defend himself, he'd be dependent on Tom to protect him, and even though he liked feeling safe under the man's watchful eye, he didn't want to be completely defenseless.

His thoughts came to a halt as he reached the bottom of he trunk and found the light, grey material of his Invisibly cloak, the cloth sliding over his fingers like water as he picked it up. Waling over to the divan by the fire, he clutched the cloak to his chest and curled up on his side, his face turned towards the dancing flames, heat caressing his skin.

Even though he didn't want to be dependent just a moment ago, he wished Tom would come back.

XXX

The last sun for the day reached in through the windows from where it rested just over the line of the horizon, soon to abandon the world to darkness. Granger sat by one of the arched windows in the library, the orange light illuminating her hair and making it seem as if on fire, her eyes focused as her full attention was directed to the paper she was writing, books and diagrams spread out around her and occupying her whole table in a sort of disorderly order. There were smudges of ink on her fingers, staining the nail varnish Pansy had put on, and a stray lock of hair had managed to escape, making her push it back behind her ear with a distracted motion that was obviously habitual.

Why she didn't put it up in a bun or a ponytail as Pansy tended to do was beyond Draco, but then again, it really didn't have anything to do with him.

"Malfoy?"

Silver eyes blinked before he straightened himself, realizing he'd been staring and that Granger had caught him. Warm, brown eyes looked at him imploringly, her upper body still leaning forward over the unbelievably long parchment with handwritten text she had before her, her red and gold tie as neat as ever around her neck.

"I talked with Severus just a moment ago," he said hastily before she could question why he'd been staring. "He said Elijah has returned to the world of awareness."

Big, brown eyes widened, a bright light of relief shining in them, a warm, soft smile of happiness curving her full lips as she sat up straight to face him fully, her schoolwork abandoned.

"He has? He's okay now?" she asked excitedly.

"Apparently, yes," Draco confirmed lightly, glancing around the empty library to confirm that it was indeed empty so that no one would overhear their conversation. "Still, the chances that we will be allowed to see him are slim as no one is allowed to meet him. The Lord is personally seeing to his needs, and I cannot imagine that we would be able to convince _him_ to let us see Elijah."

"But we don't have to convince _him_, do we?" she said, leaning towards him, her words spoken slightly quicker then normal as if rushed by excitement. "If we talk to Elijah he might be able to convince 'Tom' to let us see him, no?"

Draco stared at her in disbelief, wondering if her brilliance had finally abandoned her to stupidity.

"And how, prey do tell, do you think we will be able to talk to Elijah when we cannot even meet him?" he asked dryly, letting her know that he was questioning her intelligence.

"I-," she began but abruptly cut herself off, her brows furrowing in a slight frown as if she realized she'd been on her way to revealing something secret to Draco. "I know a way to contact him, at least I think I do," she said slowly, choosing her words with care.

"Really now? Something you can't tell me about?" Draco asked coldly, wondering why he had to keep the hurt out of his voice.

Hermione nodded, a look of regret in her eyes as if she didn't want to keep secrets but had to. "I'm sorry, but this secret isn't for me to tell," she said quietly, apologetically, and Draco reminded himself that she was, in fact, a Gryffindor, even thought she had shown Slytherin tendencies the past week.

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked, deciding he had no choice but to trust her at the moment as he had no ideas of his own of how to contact Elijah.

"Yes," she answered with audible relief. "Write a letter to him. Tell him… whatever you want, and that we want to meet him. I'll write a letter as well, and see to it so that he receives both."

Draco fell silent, watching her, thinking of his alternatives, and quickly coming to the conclusion that there were none. He disliked not knowing how Granger was going to deliver the letters to Elijah, but he'd known from the very beginning that there were secrets between them, and even thought they didn't dislike the other's company, they didn't fully trust each other yet. Perhaps they never would. Still, he dearly wanted to meet Elijah, and if Granger had a way of contacting him, Draco would not sit idly by without taking the chance.

"You will have my letter by tomorrow morning," he said with a courteous little nod.

She smiled at him, relived that he hadn't demanded to know how the letters were to be delivered, and nodded in turn.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then?" she asked, the warm light shining in her eyes.

"Of course," he answered as if it was something he had taken for granted. "I expect to see you by the Slytherin table in time to eat breakfast," he clarified, his lips stretching into a smile.

"Just like yesterday," she agreed, sounding as if they were sharing a private joke about something. "And the day before that, and the one before that."

Draco nodded and stayed another moment to share that warm smile with her before he turned to leave, his steps feeling somewhat lighter as he walked downwards to the dungeons and the Slytherin rooms.

**There you have it! The next chapter is fully planned but so far unwritten, so we'll just have to see how long it takes for me to get it out… :/**

**Review and I'll get a spur to write! ;) **


	31. Chapter 31

**New chapter… 'nuff said ;p **

Emerald eyes blinked open, only to squeeze shut again as his yaws were bent apart by a huge yawn, his body stretching across the luxurious bed and the popping of his joints breaking through the calmness of the room. He reopened his eyes and groggily watched the clouds drift over the blue sky outside the window while lazily scratching his stomach, looking the very picture of languid contentment with his black hair spreading over the pillow like a dark halo around his head.

As his gaze wandered off he caught sight of the divan by the crackling fire, his invisibly cloak draped over the back like liquid silver, half transparent and showing an obscured version of the wall behind it as it worked to make the divan invisible. He stared at it for a few moments, unable to understand what was wrong with the picture until he realized he shouldn't be looking at the divan at all – he should be laying on it.

Rolling over onto the side he pressed his nose against the mattress and took a sniff, only to let his eyes slip shut as he relaxed into the welcoming hold of the bed and took several deep breaths to breath in as much of the scent as possible. Tom had been there rather recently, and if the lingering warmth of the comforters was anything to go by, the man had been laying there beside him, perhaps even sleeping? The thought made him wish Tom had stayed, and he fleetingly remembered the feeling of a hard chest pressed against his back, strong arms embracing him from behind, a flash of awareness among many from when he'd let his vampire take over.

He rolled over to his back again with a sigh, green eyes staring up into the ceiling with a distant look, his arms and legs spread as if he wanted to occupy as much of the bed as possible and fill the empty space Tom had left behind. It was a rather depressing thought and he found himself wondering why he'd had to piss off the Dark Lord so quickly.

A harsh tapping against the window woke him from his gloom musings and he lifted his head to look at the window, finding a snow white owl blinking in at him with big, amber eyes, an envelope held in her beak.

"Hedwig!" he exclaimed happily, feeling giddy at seeing his animal friend and wondering who could have sent her to him. Truthfully, he had no idea of where she'd gone after he'd released her at King's Cross, but he'd somewhat assumed she'd go to the Weasley's. He practically jumped out of the grand bed and walked over to the window with long strides to open it, the cool wind making him shiver as it played over his naked torso, yet he barely noticed the cold as he held out his arm for Hedwig to perch on, her claws bringing a familiar and entirely welcome pain as they dug into his arm. She dropped the envelope into his waiting hand and gave a soft hoot, moving sideways up his arm until she sat safely on his shoulder, the soft feathers of her head brushing against his cheek, her body warm against his own cool skin.

Harry shut the window so that not all of the precious warmth in the room would be stolen by the autumn before he walked over the bed and sat down on the edge, absentmindedly stroking Hedwig's feathers with his free hand as he turned the envelope over. To his surprise, he found the parchment completely empty, neither holding his name or the name of the sender.

"Someone told you it was for me, huh?" he mumbled to Hedwig and received a hoot in response, but he couldn't tell if she agreed or if she protested since he'd stopped stroking her to be able to open the envelope. It wasn't until after he'd opened the envelope that he realized a suspicious envelope without receiver or sender written on it might very well be poisoned or cursed, but since he'd already opened it he reasoned it was already too late if it was indeed cursed or poisoned, and so he might as well check what the envelope held – who new, maybe the sender had written why he or she had decided to curse him?

He turned the envelope upside-down and shook it, making two neatly folded letters fall into his laps, both made of cream parchment. Green eyes stared at them for a moment, waiting for them to explode or suddenly start emitting some poisonous smoke, but he shrugged when nothing happened, making Hedwig hoot indignantly as he caused her to loose her balance, and picked up one of the letters to unfold it and read it.

_Elijah,_

_I hope you are well and that you have returned to full health. As long as He is not angered,_  
_I know you are in capable hands, and I have full confidence that you will be able to recuperate properly. _  
_What happened was most unfortunate but there is no need to lament the past and regret what has already been done_  
_as it cannot be undone, and I therefore recommend that you look forward to tomorrow. _

_With hopes to be able to meet you once you are well._  
_Your friend, _  
_D. Malfoy _

Harry stared at the short letter that was more of a note then anything else, so formal and stiff it pained his eyes, yet a small smile was playing on his lips. Trust the little git to be unable to properly express his worry, too stuck up with pureblood pride to be able to write what he thought and felt without hiding it behind stiff and formal wording.

Shaking his head he put the short letter aside and picked up the other one, finding it decidedly thicker, the handwriting filling the parchment with small and neat letters, practical as if every letter was formed to take as little space as possible so that the writer wouldn't have to waste parchment because she had so much to write.

_Dear Harry_

_I heard from Malfoy that you have returned to sanity and that you are fully healed, and I dearly hope it is the truth. What has happened to you is truly awful and I find myself speechless to the utter stupidity that the authorities have shown, to jail someone – a minor no less! – simply because of what he is even though he is of no danger to anyone and has risked his life in order to save someone else – it is simply unacceptable! Their narrow-minded prejudice only serves to show how rotten the whole system is, and I cannot but wish for change._

_Here, and most likely only here, do I find myself agreeing with "Tom". I still do not trust him even though I believe you when you claim he is a far better man then what we have been told, but this time I am forced to trust him with caring for you, something I never would have thought I would say only a month back. Still, I hope you are careful and do avoid angering "your uncle" as I would never go as far as trusting that nasty temper of his. Whatever you do, do not ever forget who he really is. As long as you keep that in mind, I have faith in your ability to survive._

_I do, however, have to express my gratitude to "Tom" for saving you and piecing you back together – without him I do not know what we could possibly have done to save you. Then again, had it not been for him, you would never have ended up in this situation, so I admit I find my gratitude limited. Even so, I hope you will relate my thankfulness to him should the proper situation would ever present itself._

_Furthermore, I would like to you assure you of the fact that Malfoy is still unaware of your true identity, and if you do not wish for me to change that, I will keep your secret to myself. Nonetheless, I have to express my doubt for the wisdom of this situation as Malfoy will doubtlessly find the truth sooner or later, and the more time that passes before he does so, the harder it will be for him to accept the truth. If you do tell him the truth before he can find it out himself, you will also be credited with honesty, however much that is worth to a true Slytherin. Still, I do not wish to succumb to the very same prejudice I condemn, and therefore I will not exclude the possibility that Malfoy could merit honesty. I have also found that Malfoy is very different from what I thought as I have become closer to him after your capture, and he is a far more sociable person then I could ever have guessed._

_A lot has changed here at Hogwarts, no only my relationship with Malfoy, Parkinson, Zabini and Nott, but I also have to admit that I can no longer call Ronald my friend, at least not before he realizes his faults and has changed his flawed way of thinking. I also find most of the Gryffindors to be increasingly difficult to be around, as they all expect me to fight for them because I am a muggleborn, but I harbor no wish to do so as I do not wish to fight to save our society as it is now, the ruling powers of wizarding Britain too obtuse to be able to adapt to the modern era and realize their own mistakes. As I said before, I find myself agreeing with "Tom" that there is a need for change._

_Other things have changed, as well. The hostility between Slytherin and Gryffindor is more tangible then ever, and the professors are unable to stop the commonly accruing fights however they threat and take house points. I have heard Umbridge was close to a heart attack a few days back when a fight broke out just beside her – it would not surprise me if the rumor would prove to be true, and – dare I say it? – neither would I find myself in mourning if she was to have a heart attack._

_Everyone, students and teachers alike and most likely all others in wizarding Britain are apprehensively awaiting answers, wanting to know what will happen next now that You-Know-Who is back, yet fearing what he might do. Fudge seems to be on his way out of the office, as everyone blames him for denying You-Know-Who's return, but I suspect you might agree with me as I claim that they have themselves to blame just as much, as they were the ones who chose to neglect the warnings you provided in favor of continuing their carefree lives. What comes around goes around, as they say._

_By now I have most likely already bored you to death, but I realize I have yet to say the most important thing, the very thing that motivated me to write this letter at all: we, Malfoy and I, wish to meet you. We wish to talk to you in person to see that you are really alright, and to ensure that "Tom" is treating you well. We do not, however, know how to make such a meeting transpire, as "Tom" would most likely not want you to meet with us, as least not with me. This is why I have written this letter, for as I have come to understand that you are important to Tom, however hard that is to believe, I suspect you might be able to persuade him to let us meet with you. I ask you to talk to him, but please be careful when you do, and please Harry, do not put yourself in danger. Merlin knows I will no be able to forgive myself if you are endangered because of something I have asked of you._

_Even if you cannot speak to "Tom", I would like you to answer my letter and tell me how you are. The uncertainty of not knowing is making me go mad._

_Many hugs!_  
_Hermione_

Harry's smile widened and he felt happiness swell like a bubble of warmth in his chest at the unwavering loyalty and friendship that the letter showed proof of. He marveled at the difference between the two letters, as Hermione's was filled to the brim with emotion, her thoughts reflected in every word, and as to be expected of the bushy-haired Gryffindor, it was far longer then needed be. She did, however, give a clear picture of what had transpired while Harry had been "unaware", and also made it abundantly clear what she thought of it all. She'd also clarified what she and Draco actually wanted and what their reason for sending their letters was, something Draco had only hinted at.

"Hey, Girl, you feel like taking another flight today?" he asked Hedwig where she perched on his shoulder, and amber eyes narrowed before she hooted, almost as if saying she would do it if she had to and if it would make him happy.

"Thanks," Harry answered and gave her a brief stroke over the feathers before he got up from the bed.

Remembering that he'd heard the scratch of a quill from the adjacent room where Tom had come from, he went over to the door and tried the handle, and he found himself slightly surprised as the door opened willingly without resistance under his slight push. If revealed Tom's office with its fireplace, armchairs, the many bookcases lining the walls, filled with neatly sorted books, the grand desk with its chair and the window overlooking the garden.

Harry glanced around for a few moments, feeling as if he was doing something forbidden and was about to be caught any time, but the door had been unlocked and Tom hadn't said Harry couldn't be in the office, so…

Hedwig hooted in annoyance on his shoulder, thinking he was taking too long, and he sent her a smile before entering the office, aiming for the desk where parchment and quills were most likely to be. Sure enough he found both in the first drawer, and overly fancy quill of a black feather and thick parchment of high quality, only the best befitting for a Dark Lord.

Sitting in the chair behind the desk felt even more forbidden then entering the room had, as if he was taking a seat on a throne, as if he was violating something sacred. Asking himself if he was a Gryffindor or not, he quickly pushed the feeling aside and sat down, picking up quill and parchment to write an answer to his two friends.

_Draco and Hermione,_

_You have no idea how happy I'm to hear from you both!_

_Now that I've come to, I'm all fine. Tom has taken good care of me and I've got this really nice room with a big bed and a house elf looking after me when Tom isn't around._

_I really want to meet you guys, so of course I'll talk to Tom about it, but I'll have to wait a while because he isn't all that happy with me at the moment. Nothing to worry about, but it would probably be safer to let the worst blow over before I ask something of him._

_I hope you don't get any trouble with the Gryffindors, Hermione, and don't let them make you change your mind! Draco will be there to save you if you get in trouble – won't you, Draco?_

_Stay well both of you so that we can meet soon!_  
_Elijah_

Harry reread the letter, trying to come up with something more to say, but he really didn't have the linguistic mentality Hermione had, so he decided it would have to suffice.

"Sorry, Girl," he mumbled as he tied the short letter around Hedwig's leg, feeling slightly sorry about sending his friend away so soon after meeting again. "I'd give you a treat if I had any, but I don't. I'm sure Hermione or Draco can give you something when you reach them."

Hedwig only hooted reassuringly in response and butted her softly feathered head against his temple as he stood from the chair and walked over to the window to let her out. He stayed at the window for a while, leaning with his elbows on the windowsill and letting the cool air wash over him along with the warmth of the sun that heated his face comfortably. Most of the colours in the garden below were gone with the summer, some late blooming flowers spotting the greens and yellows of the bushes. Leaves in brown, yellow and red swam on the surface of the fountain, pushed into motion by the rippling water.

A slight smile spread over Harry's lips even as he shivered in the cold, and a light feeling overcame him, making it feel as if he could do anything, as if the fact that he didn't have a wand was inconsequential. Straightening, he closed the window and turned a full circle, feeling as if the room was too small, as if he needed more space to be able to live out the feeling of being somewhat almighty. He walked over to the door with confident strides, meaning to leave the room and take a walk in the garden. What was there to stop him, a door? He'd broken into Tom's office, no matter that he seemed to be allowed there, and he had been sitting on the Dark Lord's chair. So what if there were Death Eaters in the Mansion? So what if Tom had told him not to leave the rooms? He'd been able to receive and answer letters without anyone noticing, so why should this be above him?

Grabbing the door handle, he pushed it… and found the door locked, unyielding to his wish for it to open. Frowning, he remembered there had been another door in the bedroom that he didn't know where it would lead, and so walked back into the adjacent room to try the closed door. He found the bathroom, a very lavish bathroom with white and green tiles, marble and gold, but no doubt a bathroom and definitely not a way out into the rest of the mansion. He sighed and walked back into the office, thinking of searching the room for a key before remembering that the Dark Lord who hated muggles most definitely would not use something as simple as a muggle key to lock his doors.

Harry groaned at his own stupidity before staring blankly at the door, trying to come up with a way to unlock it. The fact that he didn't have a wand suddenly didn't seem like such a small problem anymore, but as the stubborn Gryffindor he was, or had been, he was not about to give up. Walking closer to the door he stared at the lock, his eyes narrowing as he focused, and he took a deep breath before leaning closer to say one word with great precision.

"_Alohomora_."

Nothing happened.

"_Alohomora_," he tried again. "_Alohomora_! _Alohomora_! _Alohomora_! _A-looo-hooo-mooo-raaaaa_! Oh, come on! Can't you just cooperate a bit?" he exclaimed in exasperation while glaring at the still very locked and unyielding door.

Letting himself collapse onto the floor, he tried again and again. He tried holding his hand over the lock, tried saying the spell in different ways, moving his hand in the same motion he moved his wand to perform the spell, whispering the spell to the lock or shouting it. An hour later he was still sitting on the floor, leaning forward with his forehead against the sturdy wood of the door. His head was pounding, but otherwise the situation hadn't changed much since he started – the door remained locked.

"I don't believe it," he mumbled. "Defeated by a door," he said and glared at the wood. "Last chance for you to cooperate and open, okay?" he told the door, but he didn't have much hope of succeeding.

"_Alohomora_."

The familiar syllables rolled over his lips and he felt a tingling feeling in the back of his neck, the air in his lungs leaving him as he recognized the rush of magic that had always come to him so simply. He had done it. He had cast the spell without his wand, he was sure. He scrambled up onto his feet and stared at the lock with baited breath, slowly reaching forward with a hand that trembled in anticipation.

Putting his hand on the handle, he turned it…

- and nothing happened.

His shoulders dropped with disappointment as he stared at the door in disbelief, unable to understand why it hadn't opened when he'd managed to cast the spell. The realization that Tom vas rather unlikely to use a spell so simple it could be countered with something as basic as alohomora hit him like a ton of bricks, and he banged his head against the door, making the headache flare up with renewed vigor.

"Ouch," he whined pitifully and backed away from the blasted door, all of his confidence and determination completely gone. Walking out of the office he sullenly slammed the bedroom door behind himself and caught sight of the open door to the bathroom with its inviting bathtub and the promise of hot water and bubbles. Deciding he deserved a relaxing bath to ease his headache and as a reward for having succeeded with casting the alohomora spell wandlessly, even thought it hadn't opened the door, he went into the tiled bathroom and turned the hot water tap, steam rising as the heated water come in contact with the cool enamel of the bathtub.

Turning around in search for bubbles, he was met with his mirror image staring back at him from the big, gold-framed mirror hanging over the hand basin. His eyes were now their old, brilliant green, and his hair was a mess of short blackness. He was back to his usual height, his body thin and bony again, with a slight hint of muscles under the faintly tanned skin, the years of playing Quidditch showing result. It felt… strange. For over a month now, he'd been met by the reflection of a slightly longer stranger with blonde hair and blue eyes, and he'd learnt to identify himself with that stranger. Now that he was back to normal, it didn't feel as familiar and missed as he would have expected. Instead, it felt almost as if he was facing a complete stranger again, as if he couldn't identify himself with his old reflection anymore.

Just to make sure, he reached up and pushed his fringe out of the way, revealing the lightning scar that zigzagged over his forehead and marked him as the famous Boy-Who-Lived, the savior that was supposed to fight for the Light. He snorted and shook his head, letting the black hair fall back to cover the scar he'd always disliked as he turned back to the bathtub and stepped out of the grey sweatpants he was wearing to submerge himself in the steaming hot water that created condensation on the white tiles of the walls with the green border by the ceiling and floor.

Letting his wish for bubbles stay forgotten, he leaned back and hissed as his cold skin was scalded by the heated water, his head resting against the rim of the bathtub as he turned his face to the ceiling with closed eyes and relaxed. Thoughts were whirling in his head, too fast and incomprehensive for him to catch more then snippets, disabling him from understanding it all. It was like standing in the middle of Diagon Alley and listening to all the people walking past you, and even though it might be slightly worrying to not be able to understand one's own thoughts, Harry felt himself relax further and drift with the mumble in his head, letting it carry him away so that it felt as if he was resting on a soft cloud high above the ground and far from any trouble.

A knock on the door startled him from his light slumber and made him splash water onto the floor as he jerked awake.

"I'm bathing!" he answered the knock, not sure of what else to say and mostly wishing to be left alone to return to his soft little cloud.

Instead he heard the door handle being turned and turned around just in time to see Tom step in, more water splashing onto the floor when he faced the door. A moment of silence passed between them, a slight smile and a dark glint in those red eyes while Harry's yaw was slack, his lips slightly parted in surprise, his eyes wide and confused. Then ruby orbs travelled downwards and Harry spluttered, his hands flying down into the water to cover his crotch from sight as he felt his face heat with a blush.

"Wha-What are you _doing_?"

Dark eyebrows rose high and Tom looked him in the eyes with an amused smile, the dark glint still present in those red orbs.

"As long as nothing truly revolutionary has happened since this morning, I can assure you that there is nothing that I have not seen before," he said calmly and walked closer.

Harry felt his face grow hotter still as he remembered how Tom had taken care of him, bathed him, his hands on his body as the older man watched over him… Shaking his head to banish the thoughts, Harry watched as the Dark Lord walked closer, emerald eyes slightly narrowed in distrust. Tom's steps were silent while he flicked his wand to vanish the water from the floor, and he didn't stop until he could not walk closer to the tub without actually stepping into the hot water. Ruby eyes stared into emeralds, unblinking and searching, unnerving Harry and making him squirm in discomfort where he sat in the bath.

"What?" he snapped after a moment, the silent staring unbearable.

"You have not fed since you awoke," the Dark Lord declared, making Harry blink in surprise at the rather oblivious statement.

"Um… I am aware of that?" he answered, not really sure of what to say.

Something with Tom's smile changed, warping it into a slight smirk that told Harry he was a naïve idiot that had missed something vital, but he had no idea of what that could be. Any chance of figuring it out was destroyed when the Dark Lord leaned forward, looming over him, ruby orbs never breaking their eye contact. A warm, long-fingered hand came into contact with his cheek, making him startle and flicker a glance to the appendage before he looked back at Tom, confusion swirling in the green depths, his lips slightly parted as if he wanted to ask but wasn't quite sure of what to ask.

"You need to feed, my little vampire," Tom whispered with a darkly velvet tone, and Harry was sure it was the same voice Death would use if he ever whispered a sweet promise. The mention of feeding brought flashes of memory to his mind, an addictive taste of the most potent blood, filled with magic, dark and seductive, making the drinker crave more. He could feel his fangs lengthen at the recollection even as he flushed and turned his face away, bashful at the reminder of his wanton behavior.

"Do you deny yourself the blood that has been offered, Harry?" Tom asked softly and Harry opened his mouth to protest or agree, he wasn't quite sure, but he never got the chance to say anything as Tom acted with movements that would put a striking snake to shame, his lips suddenly sealed over Harry's and his tongue invading his mouth. The thought that this was different from anything he'd done with Draco flashed through Harry's mind, then the tongue circled one of his fangs and purposely got nicked by the pointy tip.

All thoughts were cleared from his mind when the first drop of blood touched his tongue, and he found the recollection held nothing against the true taste of Tom's liquid life. Compared to Tom's blood, Draco's had been sweet and light, almost like candy, and Harry found himself much preferring the taste of rich wine to the taste of soda. It was addictive and intoxicating, making Harry press himself closer to gain better access to the source of blood as he sucked on Tom's tongue to stimulate the flow. Reaching up he grabbed Tom's dark hair, wetting it as he pulled at the stands to pull him closer and closer, feeling as if he couldn't be close enough without integrating completely so that all of the delicious blood would belong to Harry and Harry only.

He was vaguely aware of warm hands rubbing his shoulders before sliding down to his shoulder blades and further down his back to rub at the small of his back, the hands pressing him closer to Tom and consequently also pressing him against the bathtub. A shiver of pleasure ran down his spine when his erection rubbed against the enamel, but it was far from enough to distract him from the pleasure he got from feeding. He greedily swallowed mouthful after mouthful, only ever wishing for more and realizing that it would never ever be enough. However much he drank, he would always crave more until there was no more blood for him to drink, until he'd drained his source dry, and even then the craving would follow him forever.

The horrid thought that he would be unable to stop himself from draining Tom awoke his human mind, and the thought of craving blood that no longer existed was enough to make his vampiric side withdraw and let his human mind take control once again. The fingers in those soft, dark curls were suddenly trying to pull Tom away instead of pulling him closer, a low whine escaping Harry as he reluctantly let go of Tom's tongue and jerked his head back. Silence settled over the room, only broken by Harry's gasps as he hung limply in Tom's grasp, his body hot and shivering as he squeezed his eyes shut to control the waves of lust crashing though him.

"I must compliment your astounding self-control," Tom said, and Harry opened his eyes a little to find smoldering rubies gazing down on him, making him blush as he tried to calm his labored breathing. "It must be your human mind that stopped you, since you were never able to stop until I made you when your vampiric side was in charge."

"I thought of draining you," Harry admitted breathlessly, eager to start talking as it would give him time to calm down and make his aroused body cool. "But then I reali- _hmmn_."

The surprise of suddenly finding Tom's lips fastened to his neck made it possible for the moan to escape him, and a gasp was quick to follow when Tom started sucking as if their roles as vampire and blood donor had been reversed. A hand came up to cup the back of his head, fingers carding through his messy black hair that for once lay flat due to the water, keeping his head in place so that he would not be able to move his head. The other hand moved to the side to grip his hip, the thumb rubbing circles on his heated skin. Tom chuckled against Harry's neck, his lips turning into a smirk against his skin when Harry felt himself go boneless in the older man's grip, all of his efforts at calming down wasted as his heartbeat sped up again. He was hard and aching, too hot and unable to from coherent thought, all from feeding of Tom's blood and those small, deceivably innocent touches.

Then Tom moved suddenly, taking a step back and consequently removing the physical support Harry needed to stay upright, causing him to lean heavily against the lid of the bathtub, confusion swirling with arousal in his eyes as he looked searchingly at Tom, wondering why he'd stepped away. Red eyes raked over his naked form, the droplets of water on his skin, his heaving chest and flushed face. The dark gleam in those rubies grew stronger, and Harry distantly recognized the feelings behind the gleam, his mind identifying lust, need and desire in a detached way, all the while pointing out that this was the Dark Lord, the feared Lord Voldemort, and that this was wrong. These thoughts of reason were quickly drowned by Tom's blood as it hummed through Harry, and instead of turning away he reached out with his hand, not to the Dark Lord, but to Tom, his protector, the man who had saved him from Azkaban and cared for him.

Something flickered through Tom's rubies, gone too quickly to be identified, and with a speed too great for Harry's pleasure-muddled mind to follow, Tom had swept him into his embrace and lifted him from the bath, uncaring for the dripping water wetting his clothes, and Harry pressed himself close to the strong body holding him, delicious shivers running up his spine when his arousal rubbed against Tom's leg. His hands clutched the front of Tom's robes as strong arms held him and warm hands clutched him, a hot mouth latching onto the junction between his neck and shoulder, making him tip his head to the side to grant better access as a moan slipped between his parted lips.

It wasn't until he fell onto the bed that Harry realized that they had been moving and then he was squished between the soft mattress with the silken sheets and Tom's hard, strong body, his weight warm and reassuring as if rested over him. Hands travelled all over his body, beginning at his face, scratching his scalp and behind his ears, down his throat and further down his back to stop by his hips, one hand travelling around him to rub the small of his back, the other stroking up and down the inside of Harry's tight, coming painfully close with a promise of touch and friction only to withdraw teasingly.

Latching his arms around Tom he tried to pull him closer to create the friction he desperately needed, his fogged mind focused on nothing but the goal of heightening the pleasure. Harry's nails would have left long, bleeding scratches across Tom's back had he not been wearing his robes, and when all else failed Harry pulled himself up and pressed his lips to Tom's neck, careful not to pierce the skin with his fangs as the thought of ending his source of maddeningly addictive blood was still fresh in his mind. Sucking hard to put his claim on the man, on _his_ donor, _his _human, he heard Tom draw a intake of breath from above and smirked smugly against the warm skin under his mouth before lifting the lower part of his body and grinding upwards against Tom and earning a shiver from the older man, taking the friction he wasn't given, all thoughts of reason and consequences forgotten due to the boldness he'd gained from the blood and the hum of his vampire in the back of his mind.

This was _his_ human, his _right_.

His thoughts of dominance didn't last long, however, as Tom's hands moved to his shoulders and pressed him down into the mattress before taking his thin wrists in a secure grip and holding him down, disabling him from reaching out as he wanted to and forcing his mouth from Tom's neck where a purple and red mark was forming. Harry smirked gleefully up at him with a sense of accomplishment, until Tom rolled his hips down against Harry's, finally granting him the friction he needed but also pressing him into the mattress, establishing who was on top and in charge. He didn't reflect much over his loss of dominance, however, as Tom leaned down to kiss Harry's neck before biting down just hard enough to draw a single droplet of blood, making Harry gasp and throw his head back, willingly obeying as his vampire told him to submit under the claim.

Harry panted and moaned, grinding upwards to meet Tom as he rolled downwards, the pleasure shooting down his spine and setting his nerves on fire until he finally gasped and came, spilling his seeds between their bodies, sticky droplets staining his chest as he went limp, his limbs leaden and his whole body tingling, oversensitive in the aftermath of his orgasm. Tom growled against his neck, a possessive and dominant sound that made Harry shiver, and then the man stilled before he sighed and rolled off Harry to lie on his back by his side.

For a few minutes that seemed to stretch into eternity, they lay silent side by side, their chests heaving as they tried to calm their breathing and their racing hearts. Harry vaguely thought that neither of them had lasted for long, and he quickly excused himself by blaming the potency of that intoxicating blood. Turning his head to the side he found Tom had closed his eyes, one arm folded for the hand to rest on his stomach, the other arm stretched out to the side in a position that reminded Harry of how he had held Parvati during the dance last year. While Harry had lacked all grace and finesse while stumbling along, he found Tom held a grace that could be found in his posture even when he lay sprawled on his back in a bed, finesse to the bend of his arms, to the curve of his long, aristocratic fingers. He was a bit surprised that Tom had finished about as quickly as he had, but soon realized that there couldn't be many that Tom trusted enough to lose himself with, so there must have been quite some time since he had any intimate contact at all.

Ruby eyes snapped open as if their owner had felt Harry's gaze and the teen was quick to look away, his gaze locked onto the ceiling as he felt his face colour in embarrassment at being caught staring.

"Fascinating how you make an effort at being embarrasses now, even after the very… intimate things we have done," Tom remarked with a cool amusement in his voice, and Harry watched from the corner of his eye as Tom sat up with his robes rustling, then swung his legs over the side of the bed as if to stand.

Swallowing past the clump that had suddenly formed in his throat, Harry asked: "Are you leaving?"

Ruby met emeralds as Tom looked back at him over his shoulder, and something predatory and possessive flashed through those bloodied depths, making Harry swallow nervously. A slight smirk curved thin lips, and Tom raised his dark eyebrows inquiringly.

"Would you rather wish for me to stay?" he asked, his voice a soft darkness holding many untold promises that have Harry shiver again.

Embarrassed or not, he didn't allow himself to hesitate before he nodded, his gaze unwavering as he stared Tom in the eye and saw slight surprise flitter through the blood before it was masked and quickly hidden from view. The slight smile returned and he turned his upper body to lean over Harry, one hand braced just by the side of Harry's.

"Really now? Is my little vampire craving attention?" he asked smoothly, teasingly, and Harry was hit by the thought that no one would ever believe him if he said the Dark Lord had it in him to tease someone. Then again, who would ever believe him if he told of what they'd just done?

"You know vampires need physical contact," Harry said, blaming his neediness on his vampirism, his voice growing slightly accusing. "You've locked me in these rooms without any company at all; of course I'd crave closeness."

"Ah, I see," Tom exclaimed lightly, highly amused. "Then I assume that was your reason for trying to unlock the door in the office in order to leave said rooms, where you are being contained for your own safety while you recuperate?"

The blush colouring his cheeks slipped away as he paled, not having realized that Tom would find out of his rebelliousness. He was suddenly reminded of his own nakedness and felt completely at the mercy of the man leaning over him, well aware that he had no way of fending for himself should the man decide to do… _something_. But even as he thought these thoughts, he couldn't bring himself to believe Tom would hurt him or curse him as he'd learnt to trust the man and see him as his protector.

"You can't just keep me in here," he argued, gathering his courage and forming his words after it. "I need to get out, to get to move in the rest of the mansion, in the gardens to breathe fresh air and feel the sun in my face. I need to meet people, other people then you, or I will loose my mind. It doesn't matter if it's like this or under the glamour as Elijah!"

Red eyes searched his face imploringly, and Harry stubbornly looked back, all the while holding his breath while waiting for the verdict. Then the rubies narrowed slightly, and Harry felt his hopes drop, sure that Tom would deny him his wish.

"If I agreed to let you wander the mansion and the surrounding grounds freely, would you attend the meetings I have with my Death Eaters as my new follower?"

Harry stared up at Tom in shock, his eyes wide in surprise. The proposal left him speechless as he had expected the man to outright refuse him, so when Tom raised his brows in question he could only nod in answer.

Tom got up from the bed with a swiftness that startled Harry and made him blink in surprise when Tom whipped his hand through the air and cast a cleaning spell, vanishing the sweat and come from Harry's body. Pushing himself into a half-sitting position where he leaned on his elbows, Harry watched as Tom swept over to the wardrobe and opened a drawer to throw a pair of boxers and grey sweatpants at Harry, who dumbly watched the clothes land on him, the boxers on his head and the sweatpants draped across his upper body. Tom stopped to stare at him in silent fascination, then shook his head.

"You look utterly ridiculous," he commented, and Harry blushed before jerking the boxers off of his head and putting them on, followed by the sweatpants.

Tom gave an approving nod and snapped his fingers, making Minxy appear in the room with a deep bow.

"Master has summoned Minxy, what is Minxy to do for Master?"

"Harry needs food, a full, nourishing meal," Tom ordered.

"Yes, Master, Minxy will fix immediately," the elf said, happy to be of help, and then popped out of the room again, leaving Harry to blink in confusion at the Dark Lord. He hadn't been sure of what to expect, but it had not been food.

"You will need the energy, for we have much to do," Tom said, and Harry felt a light foreboding at the words.

**I don't know why, but that bed-action was ridiculously hard to write 8/ **

**Well, I hope you enjoyed it all the same! X3**

**Btw, did anyone see the story on CNN of some doctors releasing a book of x-ray footages of patients who had the most varied things in them? There was an Ipad, a toy, chopsticks and a gun, among many other interesting things. Sadly, there was no explanation as to how the things got there (some patients claimed they'd fallen on the thing =,=') but I think we can figure it out, can't, we? (~,^)**


	32. Chapter 32

**Just want to begin by saying THANK YOU FOR ALL THE WONDERFUL REVIEWS OF CHAPTER 31! XD**

**Okay, now that's said, so please do enjoy the chapter… ^^**

The wind had picked up and was howling as it swept around corners and stormed through alleyways, making windowpanes rattle and shutters slam. It tore at awnings, pulled at wares out on display and made signs swing, their chains squeaking in protest at the ruff treatment. The cobbled street was mostly empty, only a few witches and wizards running about, hurrying to get their business done as quickly as possible so that they could return to the warmth of their homes. A tall man hurried by, with dark, wavy hair tousled by the wind and brown eyes scanning the street before him, his hand resting on the shoulder of a smaller companion in a black cloak with the hood pulled up to cover his face.

The wind pulled at their clothes, aiming to rip the garments off of them and putting in a great effort to pull down the hood to reveal the face of the smaller figure, a good sticking charm being the only thing preventing it from succeeding. Leaves and litter were chased around their feet, a crumbled copy of the Prophet blowing past them as they steered off into the shabbier Knockturn Alley, noticeably shadier and darker then the wider street they'd left behind. Cobblestones were missing in the pavement, leaving treacherous holes in their wake, decaying weeds growing in different shades of brown between the cobblestones and by the walls of the houses with their cracked plaster and smashed windows, the shops behind the dirty glass dark and dingy, not at all welcoming.

"Why couldn't we just go to Ollivander's, uncle?" Harry asked with a sideways look at a shop, two yellow eyes glaring back at him through the window. He quickly turned away and kept his gaze at the street beneath his feet as he walked so as to prevent any broken bones caused by a missing cobblestone, feeling no need to look forward as he trusted the hand on his shoulder to guide him.

"Ollivander is never to be trusted as he is a man who knows far too much. If we were to buy a wand from him, I am quite sure he would be able to identify us," Tom answered, his temporarily brown eyes swiping the alley before them, narrowing in dislike at the sight of a man who stumbled out through a door to throw up in the ditch.

"Though, I have to admit the location of his shop is preferable," Tom mumbled in disgust and quickly led the way past the man.

"Are you sure he would be able to recognize us? Even like this?" Harry asked skeptically.

"Yes…" Tom said distantly, his grip on Harry's shoulder directing them towards the most narrow shop Harry had ever seen, only wide enough for a door and a window that was no more then a meter wide. A dark curtain blocked the view of the inside, a single wand on a red cushion on display, covered in a white layer of dust.

"There is no need for worry," Tom stated when he saw Harry's skeptical look. "Mr. Schrillinger is a very competent craftsman of wands, even though he has never been approved by the Ministry – unsurprisingly, since they have never made an inspection."

In spite of his dislike for their current location, Harry felt happiness and excitement coiling in his stomach at the prospect of getting a new wand. He suspected he would always miss his own wand, as he had believed it would follow him to the grave, but it was still a material thing that could be replaced – as long as there was a wand willing to choose him, that was.

The door creaked as Tom opened it and the room they stepped into was dark and smelled of dust, the only lightning coming from a single candle burning on the counter, its wax melting over the wooden surface and running over the edge to form a stalactite. There was little space between the door and the counter, no more then four square meters, and Harry concluded there could never be a rush of customers because there simply wasn't enough room for it. There were no boxes behind the counter as in Ollivander's shop, but the entire wall was filled with small drawers only large enough to hold a wand each, their brass knobs gleaming dully in the candlelight.

"Mr. Schrillinger?" Tom called in an authoritarian voice, and his words seemed to fade too quickly, as if the sound had been swallowed by the dust and darkness in the room.

Harry glanced at the dark corners with a feeling of unease as the darkness reminded him of Azkaban with its whispers in the dark, and he found himself edging closer to Tom to seek safety. The hand on his shoulder was removed, only to be placed on his other shoulder so that Tom's arm rested around him in a reassuring gesture.

"Yes, my good sir?" a voice as creaky as the door answered out of the shadows, and a thin man with dark eyes and a bony complexion seemed to emerge from the very shadows, making Harry startle at the unexpected appearance. "What may I do for you?"

"The boy needs a wand," Tom stated and pulled off Harry's hood to reveal the face of Elijah Spring with his blonde hair tied up with a blue ribbon. He was wearing a scarf and mittens along with a good robe under the cloak to keep warm in the cool autumn, yet he felt a chill run down his spine when Mr. Schrillinger looked down at him.

"A wand…" he mumbled and leaned forward over the counter, reaching his hand out as if asking Harry for a dance. "If you would give me your wandhand, young sir…"

Harry hesitated and glanced at Tom, receiving the slightest of nods as answer. He hesitantly pulled off his mittens and slowly reached forward to place his hand in the wrinkled, dry hand of the wandmaker, his fingers bony and crooked like easily breakable branches from a tree. Yet his grip was strong and sure as he turned Harry's hand back and forth, leaning down over it for a closer look.

"What is characteristic of your magic, young sir?" he asked with his dry, creaky voice, and Harry stared at him incomprehensively.

Could magic have characteristics?

"Temperamental yet swift and efficient," Tom said, making Harry blink up at him in surprise. "He will need a strong wand that can control his magic."

"Ah," Mr. Schrillinger breathed, released Harry's hand and turned his back to them to face the many little drawers. "Rather wild magic, then. A strong wand you say…"

Pulling out his own wand, a short and thin thing that looked as much like a twig as his fingers, he waved it casually and a highly placed drawer shot out to let a wand escape and fly to the wandmaker's waiting hand.

"Nine and a half inch of oak wood, unyielding with a core of dragon heartstring. Temperamental and strong," he described the wand as he offered it to Harry, who took the wand and held it, but it felt nothing like his old wand had. Thinking that there was no bigger difference between holding the wand and a usual wooded stick, he shook his head and gave it back.

"No? Well then…"

The wand was quickly sent back to its drawer, and another wand was summoned.

"Thirteen inches, made of willow, very flexible and holding a core of snake venom… Swift and efficient."

Harry took the wand but felt as if it would slither out of his hand and drop to the floor, and even if the wand had chosen him he wasn't sure he would ever have been able to trust it.

"Try this, young sir: ten and a half inches, made of black ebony, very dense and therefore not flexible… The core is of Thestral hair… Usually rather unpredictable in nature and only ever used by those who have seen death…"

Harry hesitated and stared into the black, glassy eyes of Mr. Schrillinger before reaching out and grasping the wand. It lay dead in his hand, just a stick of dry, polished wood, and he moved to hand it back when he felt a gentle warmth in his hand. There was none of the rushing feeling he'd felt when holding his old wand for the first time at Ollivander's, no heat in his fingertips and no red sparks. Just a gentle warmth and a feeing of belonging, as if the wand belonged to him and he to it, and the dark wooden handle seemed to fit perfectly in his palm.

"Ah, I see. A match, then…" Mr. Schrillinger mumbled, and Harry looked up at him with a slight smile.

"Thank you for your exceptional services, Mr. Schrillinger," Tom said and paid for the wand.

"Of course, sir, always…"

Harry barely noticed how the wind tore at his cloak when they left the shop and only looked up quickly when Tom pulled up his hood to cover his face before replacing his hand on Harry's shoulder to lead the way through Knockturn Alley. It felt good to have a wand in his hand again, to feel the smooth surface as he stroked it, running his fingers along its length. He was no longer vulnerable, no longer defenseless. With this wand he would be able to take care of himself again, defend himself should it be needed.

Their next stop was Madam Malkin's, where Tom didn't seem to think they suffered any risk of being recognized. After some measurements and fitting, Tom ordered several robes for different occasions, a black cloak with green linings and another black cloak, this one thicker for colder weather, with blue and silver linings and a high collar instead of the usual hood, especially ordered with extra warming charms sewn into it. Harry didn't pay much attention, eager to return to the mansion where he could try his new wand, and he was therefore relieved to hear that their order would be delivered by owl within the next few days so that they would not have to wait for it to be finished.

About half an hour later they were seated in the bedroom with the wind howling outside the window, but in the room the fire was crackling and spreading its warmth and homely light. Harry was seated on the bed with his legs crossed and the cover over his shoulders, his upper body bare as he was dressed in his grey sweat pants, the mirror in the corner turned to show the reflection of Elijah Spring, his blonde hair spilling over his shoulder, his fingers twirling the wand in his lap. Tom was watching him silently with red eyes from the divan by the fire, the firelight flickering in his eyes and making it look as if his gaze was burning, making Harry shift a uncomfortably under the intense stare.

"For how long am I gonna have to stare at my own reflection like this?" Harry asked and gave Tom a longsuffering glare.

"Until you have memorized what the glamour looks like," Tom reprimanded, his red gaze unwavering.

"I already know what it looks like!" Harry exclaimed, hating the whine in his voice. He felt like an eleven-year-old in charms all over again, itching to do some magic but forced to study the theory, pronunciations and wandmovements before he could even hope to combine them into a real spell.

"Okay," Tom said, his voice calm, his face expressionless. "The incantation is _Omnis Abscondo_, you're welcome to try it out."

Harry stared at him in disbelief, wondering why the Dark Lord had suddenly given in so easily. "But… What about the wandmovements? And pronunciation?"

"You tap your head with your wand while picturing how your glamour shall look and say _Om-nis Ab-scon-do_," Tom instructed rather flippantly, and Harry stared at him a moment longer before turning back to the mirror.

With a twitch of Tom's wand, the glamour was gone and he was looking at himself again, thin with messy, black hair and vibrant, green eyes. Taking a deep breath, he pictured the looks of Elijah Spring and reached up.

"_Omnis Abscondo_," he intoned and rapped himself over the head with the wand. Nothing happened.

"You're not concentrating hard enough," Tom said and waved his wand again, this time to summon a scroll of parchment from the adjourning office. "Try again," he mumbled and turned his attention to the contents of the scroll.

Harry glared at him, then turned back to the mirror, closed his eyes and concentrated on the reflection that had met him the past month. The dull, blue eyes that made him look innocent and clueless, the straight, blonde hair that reached his shoulders, the slightly stronger built…

"_Omnis Abscondo_!"

Opening his eyes, he was met with a green gaze that looked back at him with a longsuffering stare.

"Again," Tom said without looking up from the scroll, apparently assuming Harry would fail.

Taking a deep breath to calm the rather destructive instincts that wanted to resurface and reminding himself that it usually took a few tries to succeed with a new spell, not to mention that he had a new wand that he was unfamiliar with, he pictured Elijah and tapped his head while mumbling the incantation.

His mirror image warped before his eyes, but not into the familiar glamour of Elijah. While the blue eyes and blonde hair were in place, the lines of the face were all wrong as was the built of his body, making him look like a mix between himself and Elijah.

"Wha-?"

"I thought you told me that you know what the glamour looked like?" Tom said icily, and Harry turned to him with a sheepish look, realizing his mistake. But Tom wasn't finished. "Not only that, but you also focus on the more prominent features and forget about the smaller changes, even though those changes are just as important. Now you _will memorize it_."

With a twitch of Tom's wand, the failed glamour was gone and the Dark Lord walked over to rap his wand over Harry's head, a bit harder then necessary, and the proper glamour hid Harry's appearance. Sighing he took to staring into the mirror, making an honest effort at memorizing how Elijah looked, every little line of the face, the rounded yaw, how broad the shoulders were and what form his body took.

The wind relentlessly tore at the world outside of the window as darkness fell. The fire in the fireplace crackled softly, Tom's robes rustled as he sat down and later it was his parchment that rustled as he handled it with long, aristocratic fingers. Harry stared into the mirror, his eyes teary and tired, blurring his vision as if he needed his glasses again. He found his eyelids drooping and his head growing heavy, but he stubbornly kept staring at the reflection, arms and chest and ears and the form of the nose filling his mind, swimming and blurring together into blackness. His cheek suddenly connected with the soft sheets as he fell sideways and he moved to get up again, intent on continuing, when a hand took hold of his shoulder and pushed him further down into the mattress so that he lay more comfortably on his back.

"Sleep, my little vampire. You have done well today," Tom spoke softly and long fingers stroked a short fringe out of his face. Hands were placed on either side of his face and soft lips placed a slight kiss on his forehead, making a slight, sleepy smile spread over his lips.

"Hmmm," he voice his approval and turned his head to the side to lean into the touch. The crackling of the fire and the howling wind faded into silence as he dozed off. The mattress dipped beside him and he rolled over to come closer to the warmth, a last murmur of agreement leaving him as arms circled him before his breathing deepened and he slipped into deep sleep.

XXX

Harry woke up to the pitter-patter of rain against the window and the always present crackle of the fire along with the knowledge that he was once again left to wake up alone in the big bed, but the vague memory of Tom laying beside him and holding him close was enough to let a slight smile onto his features. He kept his eyes closed as he rolled over onto his back, threw his arms out and took a deep breath to breath in the smell of ashes and burnt wood from the fire, the clean smell of some magical detergent coming from the sheets, the slight smell of soap lingering on his own skin and, most of all, the heavy smell of Tom, a masculine, strong smell of blood and death and something else that he couldn't identify that was simply _Tom_.

But there was something else as well, a smell he didn't quite recognize, slight but present and unwavering. He frowned and sniffed, trying to identify the smell, slowly but steadily cleaning the dregs of sleep from his comfortably drowsy mind.

Something tickled his arm, making him jerk away and snap his eyes open to find a giant, green snake laying on the bed beside him, yellow eyes watching as the forked tongue flickered in and out to taste the air. With a shocked yelp he jolted upright and threw himself away from the snake, only to tumble over the edge of the bed and onto the floor in an undignified heap. His mind, a bit too slow and therefore catching up first after his instinctual reaction, suddenly found it fit to remind him that he'd seen the snake before, namely in the dream he'd had of Voldemort during the summer last year.

"_Nagini_," he hissed, not realizing he'd switched to parseltongue until the reptile hissed and gave a slight nod of her head, almost as if nodding to him.

"_Ssspeaker, you know who I am_," she hissed in reply, and if a snake could possibly sound miffed, she sure did, making Harry think it disturbed her that he knew who she was when she didn't know him. She slithered across the bed to hover over the edge and look down on him where he was on the floor, slowly lowering her head until a few centimeters of air was all that separated them.

"_Who are you, hatcchhling? You bear massster'sss sssmell_-" she hissed, her tongue flickering out to tickle his face. "- _but you are cold_."

Harry stared into those yellow eyes with their narrow pupils, his mouth slightly open but no words coming over his lips as he had no answer to her question.

_Who am I_? he asked himself in the privacy of his mind, but no answer came forth. He could always answer that he was Harry Potter, but if Nagini even recognized the name it would most likely be as the name of her master's enemy as he didn't trust Tom to have told the great snake of the change in their… _relationship_. But what else could he possibly answer? He'd always been identified as the Boy-Who-Lived, the savior of the wizarding world, but that wasn't who he was anymore. In that case, who was he now?

"_He belongs to me_," a familiar voice hissed from the door and Harry's head snapped to the side to look past the snake hovering over him.

Tom was standing in the doorway leading to the office in all his dark glory, red eyes taking in the situation presented before him on the floor beside his bed. His smell grew stronger due to his proximity, and Harry found himself sniffing the air absentmindedly while emeralds met with rubies, a silent question hovering without an answer between them.

Nagini went unnoticed as she slithered down from the bed and across the floor towards Tom, her existence seemingly unimportant in the world between red and green.

"I belong to you?" Harry asked quietly, voicing his question, and Tom raised his brows as if asking if he was about to reject the claim.

Silence filled the space between them when Harry didn't answer, neither agreeing nor rejecting, the teen unsure of what to feel about belonging to someone, perhaps especially as that someone happened to be the Dark Lord. Apparently unwilling to wait for Harry to reach a conclusion in the matter, Tom moved into the room and shut the door behind him, closing Nagini in the office. Harry barely noticed, though, as Tom languidly closed the distance between them, a predator taking his time and enjoying the moment when he had his prey cornered, with the exception that Harry couldn't bring himself to feel fear. If anything, he felt anticipation for whatever the Dark Lord had in mind.

Tom descended upon him, all darkness and bloodied eyes, pinning Harry to the floor as if to capture him even though the young vampire hadn't moved a muscle. Long fingers stroked his throat and Harry subconsciously tilted his head back and to the side to grant the man better access, his eyes never leaving Tom's. The long fingers closed around Harry's throat and he felt a thrill of danger go down his spine and sending a shiver through his body and he found himself fully aware of the fingers on his skin, suddenly oversensitive to their touch as they squeezed lightly, never enough to constrict his breathing but clearly showing that Tom could do it should he wish to.

Ruby eyes came closer as Tom leaned down, his face hovering as close as Nagini's had a moment ago, his other hand coming into play as long fingers combed through messy, black hair and scratched at his scalp, making him tilt his head back further to lean into the touch, his eyelids fluttering as he hummed agreeably.

"_You are mine_," Tom hissed, his lips brushing against Harry's, making another shiver chase down his spine as his eyes snapped open to find red pools of blood fill his world, their proximity drowning out everything else and making it unimportant.

Harry swallowed against the constricting hand clutching his throat, emeralds flickering between the two rubies gazing down on him, dark, swirling magma smoldering in their depths. Then lips closed over his own and he opened up to grant entry without a second thought, shivering in anticipation as he felt his fangs lengthen, excitement coming to life in his chest at the prospect of getting more of Tom's blood. But Tom's tongue stayed away from Harry's fangs, instead opting to stroke the roof of his mouth and smother his own tongue, invading and filling and taking, and Harry moaned deeply, the sound somewhere between a protest and an exclamation of pleasure.

Then there was a knee between his legs, spreading them, pressing and rubbing, creating and giving delicious friction that made Harry moan throatily into Tom's mouth and buck his hips in response. The hand on his throat moved down to his hip, pressing down and restricting his movements, and Tom's mouth left his lips to latch onto his throat, kissing and marking and claiming, leaving Harry to moan and gasp freely into the room as Tom's knee worked wave after wave of pleasure through his body.

"_You belong to me_," Tom stated against his throat and Harry could only moan in reply, the hand on his hip moving to his thigh, stroking up and down, teasingly, so close but never touching, tearing a whimper of frustration and need from Harry.

"_Who do you belong to, my little vampire_?"

The hands so close now, the words whispered into his ear, warm breath washing down his neck, and then there were teeth, biting his ear, not hard but demanding and dominant. The fingers moving, running circles against his trembling thigh, not even touching skin yet as he still wore his sweatpants yet controlling him completely, his whole world consisting of the feeling of those fingers and the hissed words in parseltounge that gently caressed.

"_Who do you belong to, Harry_?"

The hand moved up to finger the rim of his sweatpants, and Harry found himself sucking in a breath and holding it, his eyes wide as his gaze flickered between Tom's swirling pools of red and the fingers on the bare skin of his quivering stomach, slowly slipping in under the elastic band to stroke the first few hairs almost lovingly. It was so close, so close now, and at that very moment, he could do anything to make that hand reach its goal.

"Tom," he whispered and reached up, entwining his fingers in dark curls of hair and pulling his protector closer, enabling him to make out the flecks of brown and red creating the bloodied colour of his eyes. "_You_."

He didn't think as the word fell from the lips, but at the moment it felt right, and a moment later it felt good when Tom's hand pulled his sweatpants down and grabbed him, building slow, languid pleasure that made his breathing uneven and his chest heave as his lungs worked overtime to attain the oxygen they needed. His fingers curled in Tom's hair and his spine tingled as he arched his back and threw his head back, a drawn-out, low and rumbling moan vibrating in his chest.

Afterwards, he lay on the floor, his body limp and heavy, his eyes closed and his mind filled with bliss as he tried to calm his labored breathing. Tom was stroking his thigh soothingly, the gesture calming and assuring as there was nothing sexual about it, and Harry found himself content in the promise of closeness.

"Good boy," Tom mumbled, and Harry knew the words should affront him, knew he should be annoyed by them, but couldn't find it in himself to be.

It even felt right, somehow.

XXX

The rain created a melodic, soothing rhythm as it thrummed against the windows of the common room, the gloom darkness of the rainy day pressing against the glass but warded off by the crackling fire in the fireplace that gave the room warmth and light, making the plush, red armchairs and couches with their pillows look all the more inviting. Not that there were many present to see it, of course, as the common room was mostly left empty, the students prioritizing their need for sleep and giving room of tardiness when the chance was given to them at a Saturday morning such as this one.

The calm of the room was filled with the light scratching of a quill working words and sentences onto a parchment, sometimes interrupted by the soft crinkling of turning pages or the sudden snore that seemed deafening in the otherwise relative silence. Brown eyes looked up from the many pages of text that they'd been scanning to send a frown of dislike towards the seventh-year student laying sprawled across one of the couches, a bottle of buttlebear that the house elfs had missed laying empty in the shadows under the furniture. Really, just because he was seventeen and therefore of legal age, he didn't have the right to behave however he wished, especially not in school!

Hermione shook her head and returned to her schoolwork with the hope that McGonagall would get her hands on the seventh-year, but it didn't last long until she was once more startled from her concentrated work, this time by a sharp tapping against the window that couldn't possibly be caused by the rain. Sighing irritably she turned towards the window, rain running down the outside of the glass like a waterfall, obscuring the view of what seemed to be a white, blurry ball. The insistent tapping continued, reminding her of a person knocking on a door to get out of the cold, and her eyes widened in understanding as she scrambled up from the chair and hurried over to open the window and let a drenched Hedwig into the warmth of the common room.

Hedwig hooted miserably and Hermione was quick to cast a drying charm while mumbling her apologies for not letting the familiar owl in more quickly while she closed the window and glanced at the drunk seventh-year to make sure he was still fast asleep. Setting the rather grumpy owl onto the back of an armchair just by the fire, she had to watch her fingers when untying the letter as Hedwig snapped sourly after her, making it abundantly clear that she was not happy with having to fly letters in the middle of a rainstorm. Managing to extract the letter with her fingers intact, Hermione took a seat in the armchair and unfolded the letter that proved to be more of a note, her brown eyes running back and forth over the fancy parchment as she read the few, dearly awaited words with a slight smile on her lips. The smile morphed into a slight frown when she read that Harry had already managed to do something to anger You-Know-Who, and she finished the letter with a deep sigh as she noted that her friend had said nothing of the situation with Draco, clarifying that he was going to let it go on as it was when he signed the letter as "Elijah".

"Hopeless," she mumbled to herself as she looked at the flames dancing in the fireplace. She was sorely tempted to tell Draco the truth, but she had promised Harry that she wouldn't and she knew it would be better if Harry told the truth himself. Still, there was no doubt that Draco would feel betrayed when the truth was finally revealed to him, and she wondered if their friendships would survive it.

_I sure hope it does_, she though, surprising herself with how heartfelt the thought was, and she realized she would miss Draco should he break their friendship now.

Hedwig hooted to remind Hermione of her presence and Hermione looked up to meet a pair of amber eyes, the intelligent gaze looking down at her expectantly. Puffing her chest out and flapping her wings, it was rather obvious that the snowy owl wanted something, making Hermione wish she understood Hedwig as well as Harry did so that she'd been able to interpret what she wanted. As it was she was left with her best guess.

"How about I take you with me and get you a owl-treat from the kitchen?"

XXX

"Granger?"

Hermione turned around, one foot still on the other side of the threshold to the kitchen, her hand holding the painting with the giggling pear open and Hedwig perched on her shoulder, content after the beacon and bread that the house-elves had served her, the little creatures as happy to please as ever. Brown eyes blinked in surprise when she saw Malfoy and Pansy walking towards her, the two Slytherins looking just as surprised at seeing her as she felt at seeing them.

"Malfoy!" she exclaimed, realizing she wouldn't have to wait for lunch to give the blonde the letter from Harry.

"This came just this morning," she said and handed him the refolded letter with a smile.

Malfoy took the letter but didn't look down at it, in fact, he didn't show any sign of being interested in it at all as his gaze was locked at the snowy owl perched on Hermione's shoulder.

"That's… Potter's owl," he stated slowly, clearly confused.

Hermione's brown eyes widened as she cursed her carelessness. How could she be so stupid, to walk around with Harry's owl so openly like this? Of course Malfoy would recognize Hedwig, and what was she to do if he understood, if he made the connection and realized that the letter had come from Harry and that _Elijah_ didn't even exist?

"I must admit you surprise me, Granger, to do something as Slytherin as to use Potter's bird to get to Elijah when you know they're both with our Lord," Draco said, assessing Hermione with his silver eyes as if it was the first time he saw her. "I should have though of it myself – of course Potter's owl would be able to find him, and since he and Elijah are most likely in the same place… Our Slytherin way of thinking seems to be rubbing off on you."

Hermione stared at him, her mouth slightly open in shock and her eyes wide. After a moment of silence, Draco tilted his head to the side and raised a brow inquiringly, making Hermione nod hastily.

"Erm, yes. Of ourse," she said quickly, deciding to let Draco believe the excuse when he'd been the one to make it up.

The blonde appeared pleased as he turned his attention to the letter to unfold it, and Hermione scrambled after something else to talk about so that Pansy wouldn't pick up where Draco had left off. As her brown eyes swept the corridor and the two Slytherins standing before her, she caught sight of Pansy's left hand that was wrapped in a bandage that looked oddly misplaced against her neatly painted and manicured nails.

"What happened to your hand, Pansy?"

The Slytherin looked down at her hand and frowned, her eyes darkening considerably.

"That fucking _bitch _Umbridge," she hissed vehemently and looked up to meet Hermione's confused look. "I got detention for fixing my nails in her class – I mean, what does it matter anyway? No one ever does anything in that class of hers anyway! Most people don't even show!"

"Did you hurt your hand in detention?" Hermione asked softly, not really understanding the hatred Pansy was spitting. Everybody disliked Umbridge, but to hate her with such passion was something else entirely.

"She did it!"

"Pansy," Draco said warningly, his eyes scanning the corridor to see if there was anyone close enough to hear them while he refolded the letter from Elijah and put it in his pocked, apparently having finished reading it.

Pansy scowled at her housemate but didn't say anything to him, and when she continued, she'd lowered her voice but the venom in it hadn't lessened a bit.

"She's got a Blood quill! I can't believe she dared to use it on me – to destroy my perfection! What if it scars, then my hand won't be smooth ever again! I simply cannot accept that someone can be so-"

Hermione stopped listening, her mouth falling open again.

"She uses a Blood quill?" she asked. "But those are forbidden! She cannot possibly be allowed to-!"

"She doesn't care, Granger," Malfoy cut her off. "And what does it matter if they're forbidden when she's got Fudge on her side? He's the Minister – he can approve anything."

Hermione stared at him in disbelief, unwilling to believe that a teacher could do something like that yet realizing it must be the truth. Her first thought was to report to Dumbledore so that he could fire Umbridge for what she was doing, but she stopped herself before she could put the thought into words, remembering that Dumbledore wasn't who she'd thought him to be and that she couldn't trust the headmaster. Even if she had still trusted him, he wouldn't have been able to do anything since Umbridge had been given her post by the Ministry and had Fudge backing her.

"What do we do?" she asked, hating herself for being so powerless as soon as Dumbledore was no longer there to help.

Pansy and Malfoy shared a glance, silent communication passing between them until Pansy nodded with a determined look and Malfoy turned back to Hermione.

"We must get rid of her, just like Elijah said from the very beginning," he stated. "That was partly the reason to why we started the Defense Group, after all."

"Yes, of course," Hermione agreed readily, having no doubt left after having heard of the Bloor quill as Umbridge no longer had any entitlement to call herself a teacher. "But how?"

Draco shared another secret glance with Pansy before answering, his voice low.

"We've been thinking, and we do have an idea."

**Ok, so I just couldn't let Hermione and Draco be forgotten, and I'm really itching to get rid of Umbridge, so we'll get some action at Hogwarts as well X) **

**Hope you liked it, and I wish you a great Lucia! (you can check it up on Wikipedia (Saint Lucy's Day) if you don't know what it is ^^)**


	33. Chapter 33

**Sry, it's been more then a month since the last update. Heh… ^^' I must admit I don't really have a good excuse, just that I didn't feel like it and Assassin's Creed Revelations… so yeah, I'll wholly take the blame for the delay. **

**So, finally, here it is. **

Nagini was a soothing, reassuring weight in his lap, grounding him and emitting a slight warmth that was rivalled by the far more noticeable warmth of the fire. Vague hisses without any comprehensible meaning filled the room as the big snake voiced her agreement of the hand that stroked her scaly, muscular body, the soothing sound of her hisses lulling Harry into a daze, hovering in the borderland to sleep. His emerald eyes were halfway closed, the flames of the fire reflecting in their depths, becoming the green flames of a firecall. He was sitting on the rug with his legs crossed and his back against the divan, his body relaxed and heavy.

He had been practicing _Omnis Abscondo_ all day under the watchful eye of the Dark Lord, and he was learning rather quickly. By now he managed to erect the glamour flawlessly almost every time, but Tom apparently didn't think it was enough as he had told Harry to continue practicing until he could do it flawlessly _every time_ and without as much thinking and concentrating. Giving him the counter spell that could remove the glamour, the Dark Lord had left to attend to some business, leaving Harry alone to do his practicing.

It had only taken a few tries for Harry to decide that he deserved a break, and all thoughts of practicing further had been eradicated when Nagini had slithered into the room, hissing something about stones in the sunshine before placing as much of her massive body as she could fit in Harry's lap. He'd been unsure of her presence at first, but the great snake seemed to have calmed after Tom had claimed Harry to be his, and she even hissed something about protecting the snakeling to reassure him.

That was about half an hour ago and Harry was well on his way to the land of dreams, his eyes slipping closed as his breathing deepened and his mind wandered off into unexplored areas, bringing up snippets of conversations and experiences he'd had all through his life, making it feel as if someone was sorting through his archive of memories.

He smiled at a memory of the twin's pulling a prank on a Slytherin student, of when he first flew on a broom and felt the freedom of the wind in his face. He remembered flying around the dragon in the Triwizard Tournament, remembered saving Ron and Gabrielle, Fleur's sister, out of the Black Lake. A frown creased his brows when his mind jumped to the graveyard and he found himself gazing into bloodied eyes again, eyes that no longer scared him but at that time had made his insides freeze with fright. Then the snake-like face morphed to fit the back of someone else's head, and Quirrell's shriek of pain filled his ears as the man turned to ash under his hands.

'… _although you were doing very good on your own, I must say.' _

Emerald eyes snapped open and stared blankly into the dancing flames, realization widening them along with a spark of disbelief.

"Who says something like that?" he breathed in bewilderment, causing the so far unnoticed Tom to stop on the threshold with a hand on the doorframe.

"Like what, Harry?" he inquired, red eyes quizzical and a brow raised.

"_You were doing very good on your own_!" Harry repeated, clearly upset. The raised voice caused Nagini to raise from his lap to hiss inquiringly, wondering what had caused her snakeling such distress.

"I was eleven years old, for Merlin's sake! _Eleven_! And he says something like that!"

Emeralds met rubies and when the second brow joined the first and it became apparent that the Dark Lord did not follow, Harry took a deep breath to somewhat calm himself to be able to explain.

"When I had killed Quirrell, Dumbledore visited me in the infirmary to talk about what had happened. Not once did he directly say anything about the fact that I – _an eleven-year-old!_ – had killed a man, and when he mentioned it he said that I did good! He praised me for having killed even though I was no more then a kid!"

"Well, of course," Tom answered and Harry gave him a disbelieving stare in answer.

Tom walked over to the divan and sat down, and Harry leaned back against his legs without a second thought of what he was doing, his vampire relishing the contact and calming him. Long fingers combed through messy, black hair and Harry relaxed into the touch, silence filling the room until Tom deemed him calme enough to be able to listen.

"Dumbledore knew from the very beginning, even before he placed you with your relatives, that he would use you as a weapon against me. For you to have already killed my vessel and banished me once more at the tender age of eleven must have been a positive surprise for him – perhaps it was the product of his very own machinations, even."

"You mean he might have _lead_ me to it?" Harry asked, lingering disbelief colouring his voice.

"Yes, I find it to be a quite likely alternative, but I cannot be sure," Tom admitted calmly.

"But why me? Why ever would he choose _me_ when I was just a kid like any other?" Harry asked, unable to wrap his mind around the new information presented to him.

One of Tom's hands left his hair to fleetingly stroke his jaw before settling on his shoulder, a warm weight holding him close. A moment of silence stretched between them, and when Tom spoke it was in a deep, reciting voice.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…"

Harry sat in silence, the words echoing in his head as he waited for the explanation, but none came.

"What?" he asked dumbly after a while, not at all understanding what Tom wanted to say with those mysterious words.

"So he has not told you? It should not surprise me, but I expected you to know." Tom paused for a moment, and Harry tilted his head back to look up at red eyes with flames dancing in them.

"It is part of a prophesy", Tom explained slowly. "A prophesy about you and me that revealed that a child with the power to kill me was to be born, and that child was you."

"That's why Dumbledore tried to make me into some kind of weapon?" Harry asked, incredulous. "That's why you tried to kill me when I was just a babe? Because of some _prophesy_?"

Tom remained silent, not offering an answer, and Harry scoffed.

"Unbelievable!" he muttered and sat up straight so that he was no longer leaning against Tom, the hand in his hair and the one on his shoulder losing their contact.

How could they have been so stupid? The two strongest wizards known had both followed some vague prediction and consequently deprived Harry of his normal life to force him into a life of fighting and fear, a life that was truly unbefitting of a child. The future was entirely unpredictable; Divination with Trelawney had taught him that.

"Part of a prophesy, you said," Harry grumbled sourly after a while, not because he wanted to know but because he felt the silence becoming suffocating. "So what's the rest? Does it foresee me being turned into a vampire, as well?"

"I do not know," Tom admitted, and there was a hesitation to the words as if he was unwilling to admit that there was something he didn't have knowledge of. "What I just told you is the only part of the prophesy that I have."

"Really?" Harry asked in disbelief, wanting to question how someone with such a brilliant mind could act on a prophesy at all, no mind acting on a fragment of a prophesy. "So where's the rest of it?"

"Dumbledore knows the full prophesy," Tom said, making Harry groan. "There is also a recorded version of it at the Ministry."

"Oh yeah? So why haven't you had one of your Death Eaters go get it for you if you want to know the rest?" Harry asked scathingly.

"Because only those mentioned in the prophesy can touch it, so you and me are the only ones who would be able to '_go get it_', and as my return has been unknown to the wizarding society of Britain until just recently, I have not wished to attack the Ministry yet."

"They know now", Harry argued. "What's stopping you?"

"I have been busy," Tom answered with a softness that surprised Harry. "I have, among other things, taken care of a newly turned vampire and broken said vampire out of Azkaban to keep him alive and sane."

Harry sighed and slumped, feeling guilty for being angry with the man when he had taken care of Harry and been the one to save him when he needed it the most.

"Yeah," he mumbled and leaned back against Tom's legs again, the hands immediately returning to his hair and shoulder, almost as if they had missed touching him.

A comfortable silence settled between them as they both stared into the flames, Harry's hand returning to its chore of stroking Nagini as she settled back in his lap, a hiss of contentment being his reward for the effort.

"I do plan to learn the rest of the prophesy," Tom said at length and Harry hummed nonsensically. "When I have gathered my forces, I shall attack the Ministry to attain the prophesy so that I can learn the rest of it, but as it is now, my forces are sadly minute and compared to what they have been, their state of training is deplorable."

Harry's eyes were slowly slipping shut due to the attention of the hand in his hair, and the hand on his shoulder was gently massaging, the thumb rubbing circles against his neck. Tom's words washed over him, heard but not really registered, so when Tom paused he only hummed again since he did not know if Tom expected an answer of not.

"You will be meeting them soon, my little vampire."

Harry's eyes snapped open and he tilted his head back to stare at Tom in shock, red eyes meeting his surprised gaze.

"I will?" he croaked. "You mean like... attending a meeting or something?"

"Yes, Harry, that is exactly what I mean."

"Oh, um, okay. Will I, you know… be marked?"

Tom's hand stroked his throat and he smiled down at Harry.

"No, Harry, I have no need for marking you as you are already mine. Besides, marking you would be misguiding since you are not a Death Eater."

"I'm not?" Harry asked, and then, more surely: "I'm not."

"No, you're not," Tom agreed. "You're _mine_."

A slight smirk pulled at Tom's lips and the man leaned down to place a kiss on Harry's lips, a light, chaste kiss that seemed to hold immense promises of what was to come. Warm breath washed over Harry's lips as Tom withdrew to put a few millimeters between them, their lips brushing teasingly against each other when Tom spoke.

"And now you will practice that spell, my little vampire."

Harry groaned at being reminded of the blasted spell and at being denied what he wanted, a light frown creasing his brows.

"I already know it!" he protested and tried to lean up to catch Tom's lips again, but the older man was quick to leak back, making the distance between them too great for Harry to reach.

"Very good, Harry," Tom praised him softly, his voice warm and smooth and making Harry smile in anticipation of what was to come, sure that he was to be let off from his practicing.

"Then you can start practicing it wand- and wordlessly."

"What? No!" he exclaimed with a look of betrayal and defeat.

"Oh, yes," Tom corrected him, amusement clear in his voice. "You, if anyone, should know how vulnerable a wizard is without his wand."

Harry groaned and pouted but wasted no time trying to convince Tom that he didn't need the practicing as he knew it was pointless – when the Dark Lord had set him mind on something, it was hopelessly impossible to deviate from his cause.

"So, what? I just put my hand on my head and picture Elijah, or something?" he asked dejectedly, not looking forward to the many hours of practicing that were no doubt awaiting him.

XXX

The old castle of Hogwarts was buzzing with rumors and speculations that spread throughout the cold stone corridors, at times making it seem as if the very walls and the many amours were participation in the gossiping. Their voices were hushed as the students asked for more information or forwarded what they knew, yet everyone already seemed to know what little there was to know, the knowledge spreading between students, portraits, ghosts and professors alike, and even though the details varied, the core of it all stayed the same.

It was said that a small organization of students had been formed under Dumbledore to receive training, but what the training would lead to was disputed. Some said they were to overthrow the Ministry and make Dumbledore the next Minister of Magic, others said their goal was to extrude all Ministry influence over the school, their main goal being to get rid of Umbridge.

One undisputed fact, however, was that Hermione Granger from Gryffindor and Draco Malfoy from Sytherin were the two leaders of the group, chosen because of their ability and because they were the least likely to be leaders of some unknown, secret organization. After all, one was known to follow rules and respect professors religiously while the other detested everything that had with Gryffindors and the old headmaster to do, so how could the two of them possibly be the leaders of such a group?

It was rather shocking how quickly the rumors spread, Hermione reflected, knowing that she shouldn't be surprised in the least – it wasn't the first time they used the gossip to spread information they wanted to be known among the students, after all. Yet she found it quite different from last time, as this little rumor was entirely true except for the fact that the Defense Group had nothing with the headmaster of Hogwarts to do, and she also found herself completely unperturbed by the tiny little lie.

_The Slytherin way of thinking really must be rubbing off on me_, she though with a slight smile touching her lips as she walked through the corridors of Howgarts, making her way towards the Great Hall along with the rest of the student population, a sense of hopefulness and expectation filling the air of the cold Friday as the weekend approached with its promise of sleep-ins and hours of free time. The rumors circulating clearly contributed to the nearly festive atmosphere as most of the students passing her glanced at her, some with respect, others with expectation or restlessness, as if they thought something should be done soon rather then later. Someone clapped her shoulder, and when turning around she found a tall Ravenclaw smiling down at her.

"It'll be good riddance," he told her cheerfully and gave her thumbs-up before the crowd swept him away, leaving her with a growing smile, thinking it was rather obvious that they had the students on their side in this matter, even though there weren't many who were willing to actually take matters into their own hands and do something about it.

The only thing bothering her now was that she wasn't entirely sure of how the rumor was going to help them reach their goal of chasing Umbridge from the castle, as Draco and Pansy had talked her into trusting them on this, the two of them apparently thinking her Gryffindor honesty wouldn't agree with whatever it was they had planned for the horrid woman. For now – and the four past days since Draco had told her of their "plan" – she had decided to go along with it and let the Slytherins handle what they did not trust her with, all the while hoping they weren't preparing something all too cruel. A hesitant voice in the back of her mind mumbled uncertainly that it might be okay however cruel it was as the horrid woman no doubt deserved it, but she was quick to silence the little voice, unwilling to abandon the last of her Gryffindor mentality.

"Ms. Granger?" sounded the prim voice of professor McGonagall through the corridor and Hermione looked up to find the strict woman standing stiffly by the invitingly open doors to the Great Hall, the students that flowed past her taking caution to step out of her way, leaving a area of unoccupied space for the Head of Gryffindor to move unhindered in.

"Yes professor?" Hermione asked when the crowd had flushed her close enough to enable her to fight her way between the bodies until she fell out of the crowd and into the empty space surrounding McGonagall. She was left feeling slightly unsteady when she was suddenly forced to stand on her own, no longer pushed from all directions by the many students.

"Come along," was all McGonagall answered and Hermione obediently followed closely behind so as to stay out of the crown, taking advantage of the free space around the strict professor until they had left the crowded areas behind.

A blonde head passed in her peripheral vision as they walked and she turned her head to look at him, silver eyes meeting with brown ones as Draco somehow managed to stand still in the middle of the flowing stream of students. Hermione tried to relay calm and assurance through her gaze so that Draco would not worry as she strongly suspected that the sudden visit to McGonagall's office was somehow related to the resent rumors. To her surprise, she found the same feelings in those star-filled orbs and a smile spread over her lips at the realization that they were both trying to calm the other.

As they walked around a corner, Draco disappeared out of view and Hermione refocused on the stiff back of McGonagall with the tartan shawl hanging over he shoulders, even the folds of wool fabric staying neatly in place as if unwilling to disturb the strict impression. With the quick march McGonagall set it did not take them long to reach her office, and Hermione was primly instructed to take a seat in the straight-backed chair while the professor herself took a seat behind the desk and spelled the door closed. Silence settled over the room, the yellow autumn sun shining in through the window and leaving a rectangle of light over the floor and the impeccably organized desk with the inevitable jar of Ginger Newts.

"Ms. Granger," McGonagall began, fixing the bushy-haired girl with a piercing stare. "Am I correct to assume that you are aware of and at least partly responsible for the rumors presently circulation here at Hogwarts?"

Hermione breathed in deeply, unsure of what McGonagall hoped to achieve with this and consequently unsure of what she should tell the professor, yet aware that she would gain nothing from laying as she was far too bad at it to be believed by most.

"Yes, professor," she answered quietly and completely honestly after a moment of silence, opting for the truth when lies were of no aid.

The professor seemed to deflate a bit, making it obvious that she had been hoping for another answer, yet she did not appear surprised.

"I am aware that your choice of friend has… _changed_ since Harry's disappearance, and I do not blame you nor do I find anything wrong with that, if, perhaps, a bit surprising," McGonagall said with unexpected softness and clam. "I did, however, expect you to be strong enough to keep to your good principles and stand up against-"

"Oh, no, professor!" Hermione exclaimed, realizing what the Head of Gryffindor had wrongly assumed. "Draco hasn't forced me into anything – I am a wholly willing participant in this."

Even as she said those words she knew she was incriminating herself further, but she wasn't going to let McGonagall put all the blame on Draco when she was just as guilty as he was. Determined and sure of herself, she met McGonagall's gaze, finding the professor slightly surprised, looking as if she was unsure of what to do now. Clearly, this was not what she had been expecting when she asked Hermione to come to her office.

"Could you, by any chance, clarify what _this _is?" the strict professor asked after a stretched moment of silence, a slight sparkle in her piercing gaze as she leaned forward over the desk, ready to take part of the secret.

Hermione fell silent, hesitating. McGonagall did not seem to be against what they were doing, but she was still a professor, meaning she might try to stop them as she was most likely obligated to do. It was, however, no secret what McGonagall thought of Umbridge, so she might chose to support them… But even if she was to tell, what would she say? She, too, did not know much more then what the rumors said.

"I'm sorry, professor, but I cannot tell you," Hermione said, trying a slight smile. "You will have to listen to the gossip just like anyone else."

"Hmm," was McGonagall's answer to that, yet there was no hostility or even dislike in her eyes as she leaned back in her chair. "Well, as long as you do nothing illegal or against the rules, I have no obligation to intervene, and as far as I know you have done nothing more then spread some rumors around school."

Hermione gave a quick nod under the sharp gaze and gained an approving nod as answer.

"Take a Ginger Newt, then, and be on your way. We wouldn't want you to miss out on lunch!" McGonagall said sternly and Hermione smiled in turn, making sure to take one of the offered cookies and curtsy properly before she left the office.

"You are truly unbelievable."

Hermione yelped in surprise and whirled around, turning to face Draco where he was leaning against the wall just beside the door, silver eyes locked onto her, his brows in a frown and his arms crossed disapprovingly over his chest.

"You Gryffindors are truly unbelievable," Draco muttered while closing the door to McGonagall's office, his styled hair obediently staying in place even as he shook his head, no doubt the result of charms or some magical hair product.

"What?" Hermione asked with confusion clear in her voice as she blinked at the blonde, unable to think of what could have upset him. Personally, she though the encounter with McGonagall went quite well.

The silver coloured eyes staring at her clearly did not agree with her, and then Draco sighed dramatically before turning to walk down the corridor, a quick glance over his shoulder to check that Hermione was following.

"Did you not see that you had the chance to walk away as innocent?"

"Well, yes, but…"

"Oh, please! Don't give me that Gryffindor loyalty as explanation!" Draco exclaimed and Hermione snapped her mouth shut, directing a slight glare at the blonde.

"There is nothing wrong with loyalty," she argued grumpily.

"There is when it endangers you unnecessarily," Draco retorted, his silver eyes narrowing.

"Nothing happened, did it?" Hermione snapped but then fell silent, realizing how stupid such a comment was and… Had Draco been worried for her?

"Gryffindor or not, I cannot believe that you of all people would say that," Draco remarked and Hermione found her face heating at the voiced reminder of how stupid her comment had been. Just as Draco had said, it wasn't something that she would normally say – rather, it was something she'd expect to hear from either Ron or Harry after one of their more or less dangerous ventures.

"I must admit I am surprised, though," Draco mumbled after a moment of embarrassed silence, and Hermione looked up at him in slight confusion.

"Why?"

"Because I originally though the professors would become a problem when they heard or our plan," he stated with a smile tilted in Hermione's direction as they neared the grand doors to the Great Hall. "It seems, however, as if they won't be any problem at all."

"Well, that's-"

"THERE YOU ARE!" two loud voices chorused suddenly, followed by flashes of red and hands clutching Hermione's shoulders, leading her rather forcibly away from the open doors and out of view from the students eating in the Hall. In the corner of her eye she could see Draco being treated much the same way, a sneer on his features at being manhandled in such a way by a Weasley.

They were steered towards one of the secret passages that Harry and Ron liked so much, this one covered by a tapestry where an old woman with a sorrowful expression was being visited by a woman greatly resembling a seal, the two of them drinking tea and the sorrowful one listening morosely while the seal-like woman gossiped. When the two on the tapestry spotted them the seal-woman immediately shone up and directed a smile full of expectations at Draco who surprised Hermione by blushing and glaring in return.

"Oh dear, oh dear!" the seal-woman exclaimed. "I see you have gotten yourself more companions, pretty boy! How positively naughty of you! But I must say I really did prefer the other boy, he was truly nice on the eye."

"Shut up, would you? This isn't the same," Draco bit off rather darkly and then glanced distrustfully towards the nearest twin, suddenly paling a bit. "At least I hope to Merlin that it isn't."

The tapestry had been swept to the side before Hermione could ask for an explanation and they were stuffed into a dark, hidden space with a narrow staircase leading upwards. Seeing as there was no room for all of them to stand below the stair, Hermione sat down on the cold stone steps and one of the twins was quick to follow her example, the other still standing beside Draco and holding the blonde's upper arm as if afraid the Slytherin would run away if the opportunity was given.

"What are the two of you up to?" the twin holding Draco asked, brown eyes dancing between the two fifth-years.

"A very good question, George! I'd like to know the answer to that one myself," the other twin, by deduction Fred, exclaimed merrily.

"I cannot see why the two of you would be more entitled to that knowledge then anyone else," Draco sneered in response and jerked his arm free of George's grip, consequently attracting two identical glares.

"I'm sure they only mean well, Draco," Hermione hurried to interject in order to avoid a fight. "Not to mention that they are actually part of this as members of the Defense Group – they helped spreading the rumors, after all."

"Oh yes, we did," Fred agreed.

"A very good job, we did," George added importantly, exchanging a nod with his twin.

"And we want to do more, don't we, Fred?" the one who Hermione had though was Fred asked, confusing her with the sudden exchange of names.

"Sure we do, George. If it means getting rid of that blasted toad-"

"- then we wanna be in on it."

"I'm sure you can be of help somehow – can't they, Draco?" Hermione answered, locking her eyes to Draco's to deliver the silent message that he should at least give them something little to do to appease them and make them feel involved so as to avoid unnecessary strife.

Draco frowned, his mouth a tight line of dislike but there was a thoughtful look in his silver eyes. "There is something…" he mumbled and then snapped to attention, his gaze sharp as he looked at the twins.

"The plan is rather simple but we could use a trigger that sets it all off. You think you could handle that?"

Identical grins spread over the twins' freckled faces, a foreboding glint in their eyes.

"What kind of trigger are we talking about?"

**Nothing big in this chapter in spite of the delay, I know, but a few things had to happen so that we can have things actually _HAPPENING _in the next chapter. Look forward to it and boost my ego with a review! ;) **


	34. Chapter 34

**Thank you for the wonderful ego-boost you gave me for the last chapter! I'm happy to be able to _satisfy _so many of you ;P While I love writing, I'm starting to think that the best part of it is when I get to read my reviews! :D **

**Damn, this chapter was hard to write and I'm sorry for the mistakes that are probably in there (I'm so damned tired! Xc), but I really do hope you'll enjoy it!**

It was dark outside the window as the sun had left the world without its light and the moon stayed shrouded in clouds, its sparse light denied the lands resting below the sky. The crackling fire on the hearth fought a lonely battle against the darkness to light the room, providing warmth and a sense of comfort. The dancing flames were reflected in the mirror standing in the corner of the room, backlighting the reflection of a young man with wide, innocently blue eyes and blonde hair falling freely to his shoulders, a formal robe of elegant cut shrouding his body in black and making him appear mightier then ever before.

"Why not introduce me as myself?" Harry asked nervously, grateful for the slight relief of being introduced as Elijah Spring yet curious as to why Tom didn't want to announce his change in loyalty.

"Because it would be contra productive, my little vampire. Since I had Severus reporting to the old fool that you are in my possession, they cannot ignore the possibility of such a claim being true but they must also question it, especially since I have yet to make this officially known and, perhaps most importantly, they would expect me to gloat about having killed you as they cannot see the possibility of me wanting to spare you," Tom explained from the other side of the room, a slight smile on his lips. "As long as they cannot ascertain that I do, indeed, have you in my grasp, they must consider the possibility that I do not and that my claim is a way of hindering them in their search as it would be a matter of who finds you first if you were still out there, hiding. Being forced to wonder and question will strain their morale and they will have to divide their forces to search for you which will weaken them and, ultimately, be beneficial to me.

"Now stand tall with a straight back," Tom instructed softly and approached him from behind with a blue ribbon in his hands. "I want them to look at someone superior and far more important then them when they see you."

"I'm not sure I can pull that off," Harry mumbled nervously, swiping his tongue to wet his dry lips. Was he really going to go through with this?

Long fingers brushed against the cold skin of his neck as Tom gathered his hair and tied it together with the ribbon, a few loose stands framing his face and making him look all the more innocent. The long fingers moved to stroke along his jaw line, the light caress enough to make him shiver as he had recently fed, a sweet, pleasurable tingling still filling his body and the dark but delicious taste of Tom's blood lingering on his tongue. When the hands moved on to strengthen his robe and smooth out wrinkles, Harry took a deep breath and closed his eyes, concentrating on breathing and trying to calm down.

He was going to walk into a room full of Death Eaters who had all tried to kill him only months before and he was going to do it with the Dark Lord himself. What if he somehow screwed up? What if he tripped on his robes and made a face-plant at the feet of all the Death Eaters? What if he happened to say something that revealed his true identity? What if Tom did something that Harry couldn't agree with? What was he going to do if Tom decided to kill or torture someone? He couldn't just stand by idly and watch, could he? But what would Tom expect him to do? And what _could _he do? He couldn't go against Tom in front of the followers when he was supposed to be an ally.

_Not helping! _Harry admonished himself as he felt panic bubbling in his hest, his breathing quickening.

Strong arms closed around his middle, hugging him close and pressing him back against Tom's firm chest, warmth seeping into his cold being and Tom's breath ruffling his hair as the man kissed him atop the head. Harry instinctively relaxed into the embrace, his panic smothered like flames choked by a heavy, wet cloth.

"Calm down, my little vampire, I will not tolerate any harm to come to you," Tom mumbled into his hair. "I despise the fact that I am about to portray Gryffindor characteristics as something desirable, but are you not a Gryffindor? Surely, you cannot fear a meeting with a few Death Eaters when you have faced me so many times?"

Harry allowed a small, sheepish smile, relieved that the panic had dissipated even though the nervousness remained. He would have Tom by his side this time and he would not be defenseless as he had his wand, but still – what if he did trip on his robe?

Tom's chin shifted atop his head, ruffling his hair further.

"How come you have not eaten?"

Blue eyes blinked in surprise at the sudden change of subject and Harry turned to look in the direction that Tom's gaze was aimed, finding the plate of nearly untouched food on the bed to be on the receiving end of the man's attention. Minxy had popped into the room with his dinner as usual, the smell of the result of delicious cooking filling the room, yet he'd only managed to eat a little before he'd lost his appetite completely, his nervousness eating away at his insides as stealing away whatever space there had ever been for food.

"I'm not hungry," he humbled and turned back to the mirror to regard his reflection with a critical eye. Standing tall as Tom had instructed him too, the posture and formal robes made him look like some wayward prince. Trying on a look of indifference and tilting his head back a bit to look down his nose at his own reflection, he found himself looking almost regal. The thought that he looked like some bastard child of the Malfoys made him scowl and change the angle of his head, deciding that looking indifferent was more then enough.

Dark brows raised slightly in amusement as Tom watched him, then the man simply shook his head and turned to look around the room, making Harry sigh in disappointment at the loss of contact and warmth.

"_Nagini,_" Tom hissed softly and the giant snake slithered into the room, her green scales shining beautifully in the light of the fire.

"_Watccchhh over Harry for me – we will be meeting with predatorsss who might not know their placcce_," Tom ordered and Nagini slithered past him to reach Harry, her tongue flickering out to taste the air around him.

"_Sssnakeling will be sssafe, I will protect_," she hissed softly, her flat head rising to rest on Harry's shoulder, black eyes meeting blue ones in the mirror.

"_Thank you, beautiful. Your ssscalesss ssshine wonderfully today_," Harry hissed, knowing to stay on the good side with a snake that could eat you while you slept.

"_Hatccchhhling isss flattering_," she answered, sounding both content and amused as her tongue flickered against Harry's neck, tickling him.

"You cannot talk parseltongue at the meeting, Harry," Tom said, making both boy and snake turn to look at him. "Everyone knows that the two of us are the only ones alive who are able to speak with snakes, so if they realized that you have the ability they could easily conclude who Elijah Spring actually is."

"Of course," Harry agreed, nodding. "_Ssso don't asssk me anything, becaussse I won't be able to anssswer you,_" he added in parseltongue for Nagini's benefit and she simply flickered her tongue against his neck again as answer.

"Well then," Tom spoke simply and placed a warm hand at the small of Harry's back to guide him to the door. Nagini slithered after them, a quietly rasping sound that followed them as they left Tom's rooms to walk the corridors of the Manor. They walked in silence as Harry listened to the rustling of their clothes, the steady rhythm of their steps against the stone floors and Nagini's occasional hiss, Tom's hand a reassuring and calming pressure that pushed him forward and repressed his worry simultaneously. Yet there was the thought that he was walking to his own doom nagging in the back of him mind, refusing to go away.

They stopped outside of a pair of closed double doors, a low murmur of voices sounding from the inside. Tom's hand dropped from his back and Harry took a deep, fortifying breath, clutching his thestral wand tightly in his hand before looking up to meet Tom's red gaze. A silent question passed between them and Harry gave a slightly shaky nod as answer, making Tom turn towards the doors, all emotion leaving his classically handsome features to be replaced by cold disregard that made it clear that the people on the other side of the door should be grateful to be allowed to even breathe in the Dark Lord's presence.

"Superior and far more important. Regal," Tom reminded without looking back and Harry immediately stood straighter and tried his best to put up a cold expression as he didn't think he'd be able to look superior.

Then Tom took a step forward and the doors opened before him, much like those automatic doors at muggle malls that open when you step close enough. The murmur of voices immediately fell silent and Harry stepped into the room half a step behind Tom, somewhat unwilling to claim complete equality in front of the Death Eaters and feeling quite good about the fact that Tom stood between him and the followers gathered in the room. The advantage of standing behind the Dark Lord was soon null, however, as they walked into the middle of the room, the Death Eaters moving aside to let them forth and bowing deeply as they past by. Suspicious and quizzical looks followed Harry as he walked after the feared Lord Voldemort fearlessly, his looks of innocence and his youth making him stand out like a sore thumb among the gathered Death Eaters.

"…_marking you would be misguiding since you are not a Death Eater. You're mine_."

Tom's words caused a slight smile to slip onto his lips and the Death Eater closest to him frowned at his behavior, most likely unable to find any reason to why some teenager would be allowed to walk so close to their lord and behave so aloofly. Harry stroked his thestral wand, needing the reassuring weight in his hand to keep himself from turning and running as the eyes of the Death Eaters followed him, eyes he had last seen staring at him through holes in anonymous masks as they all laughed and jeered while he was being tortured at their feet. They were the eyes from his nightmares, nightmares he had woken from screaming and crying with Cedric's name on his lips, his body shivering and bathed in cold sweat.

"_Foul sssmelling creaturesss_," Nagini hissed with disgust, distracting Harry from his panicked thoughts and making him turn to look at her over his shoulder to see her slithering along behind him. "_Filth and madnessss tassstessss sssourly on my tongue_."

Harry blinked at her in surprise and turned forwards with a frown, unable to understand what the great snake meant by saying that she smelled madness, but he was given no time to ponder it as Tom suddenly stopped before him. Looking around, Harry realized that they were standing in the middle of the room, the Death Eaters surrounding them moving to form a circle of men and women clothed in black robes, their faces thankfully bared or the scenario would have been all too similar to that of the graveyard for Harry to handle. There were a few faces he recognized, namely that of Lucius Malfoy with his haughty expression and the long, pale hair, as well as the bat-like appearance of his potions master, the man looking as cold and disapproving as ever. The crouching form of a nervous man with a balding head was recognized as Peter Pettigrew, his presence making Harry frown in dislike.

A tickle on his hand made him look down to see Nagini flickering her tongue against the back of his hand, and he was quick to move to pet her, the great snake rising further up so that he could reach more easily. The display of familiarity to the Dark Lord's feared familiar made many gasp and caused many expressions of chock even in the faces of the men most experienced with hiding their emotions. It almost made Harry wish he could have spoken parseltongue with Nagini just to get to see their chocked and disbelieving faces, but he stifled the impulse before it could be transferred into action, knowing the importance of keeping his true identity well hidden.

"My faithful followers," Tom said and every pair of eyes were turned to him, the man claiming all attention with no more then a few words. "Finally, we are able to gather without suffering the absence of those imprisoned for their loyalty. You who have recently been freed of your chains: I welcome you back. Your capability and participation will be much needed as we pave our way to power."

Mumbles of gratitude and assurance of loyalty were heard, the Death Eaters mentioned bowing deeply to show how grateful they were. Taking a closer look, Harry found that most of them looked gaunt and a bit sickly, no doubt the result of their time spent in Azkaban. Simply thinking of the place made him shudder as he remembered his few days in imprisonment, and he could not even begin to understand how it must have been for them to spend several years in the darkness with insanity heavy in the very air. Blue eyes swept over the bowed forms of rescued Death Eaters with the question of how they had managed to stay sane, and he quickly found his answer in the appearance of a pale-skinned woman with dark wild hair and black eyes trained on the Dark Lord with the admiration of a dog awaiting the orders of his master, but there was also a deeply rooted, undeniable madness swirling in the depths of her gaze. As she straightened from her bow, she flipped her curly hair over her shoulder, the action spreading her smell into Harry's direction and making him scrunch his nose up in dislike as a horrid smell stung in his nose and made him turn his head away to escape it.

There was only one word with which he could describe that smell - _madness_.

"As I am sure you have noticed, our gathering does not solely consist of familiar faces," Tom said and Harry was startled out of his thoughts as every single Death Eater in the room turned to look at him again. He blinked in surprise of the sudden attention, his disability to uphold a mask of being regal and superior along with his innocent appearance undoubtedly making them see him as some gullible, harmless brat charmed by Voldemort's charisma.

"I would like you all to welcome Elijah Spring to our circle."

"Is he not very… young?" one in the circle asked hesitantly after a moment of silence, apparently unsure of what the Lord's reaction would be. The man covered slightly as Tom's eyes glinted darkly, but the Lord's smile was unwavering as he regarded his followers.

"You should all know that age is irrelevant," Tom chided coldly, tsking as if berating a foolish child.

"The only matters of importance are loyalty and ability, both of which Elijah have in abundance" he continued his lecture, the use of the teen's given name revealing the familiarity between the two and making it obvious to the Death Eaters how close Elijah Spring was to their master. "Elijah is an ally of great importance to our cause and with his aid our goal of attaining power over wizarding Britain can be fulfilled within a tangible future. Elijah's allegiance to us will and already does affect the course of this conflict, the fact that he chooses us as his allies cripples the enemy and strengthens us."

Tom's voice gained strength for each spoken word, the syllables vibrating through the room and making everyone listen attentively without question or doubt, their full attention transfixed by the regal appearance of the Dark Lord standing before them, turning slowly as he spoke to face his circle of followers. Even Harry found himself caught by the man's charisma, warmth growing in his chest as he was told how important he was, the words spoken giving him a reason and a value far beyond anything he would have entitled himself with. When silence reclaimed the room, he felt disappointed and silently willed the man to keep talking just so that he would get to hear his voice again, no matter what he said.

"May I humbly inquire, my Lord, as to how a single person can have such a great value?" a man asked, and even though he questioned it was obvious that he did not for a second doubt the words of his Lord.

"That is really quite simple, Avery," Tom answered with an indulgent smile. "Elijah Spring is a vampire."

Silence met this statement as every pair of eyes in the room were turned to Elijah, revaluing him and gauging his strength and capability, assessing his usefulness. His innocent appearance was questioned and most likely explained as a means of disguising his true nature, his familiarity with Nagini taken into account as proof of his closeness to the Dark Lord as well as a sign to his importance as he must truly be valued by the Lord to be protected by his very own familiar. New questions arose as old ones were answered, suspicions and assumptions confirmed or proven wrong. As all of their minds moved through the process there was one question they all realized.

"My Lord," the mad woman asked admiringly, her dark eyes only having strayed from Tom's form for the shortest of time as if unwilling to ever let him out of sight. "How did you manage the feat of perusing a vampire to join our cause when we have been unable to find a solution to the feeding for such a long time?"

"I am afraid the solution is not applicable to anyone else then Elijah, as I will be the one to provide the blood he needs," Tom stated, the mere mention of feeding enough to make Harry smile as his inner vampire shifted contently.

Shocked gasps filled the room as the Death Eaters stared at the vampire before them, all evaluations discarded as they realized how close Spring truly was to their Lord, jealousy growing in many hearts at the thought of what invaluable privileges the teen was granted by Voldemort. Yet no jealousy was greater then the one Harry could see burning in the crazed gaze of the woman stinking of madness, her lips twisted in a feral snarl and her fingers curved like talons, making it appear as if she was about to attack at any moment. Feeling threatened, Harry's fangs elongated and all innocence was washed from his eyes as he bared his teeth threateningly, Nagini mimicking his actions by his side to protect the snakeling of her master.

No doubt sensing the impending danger, Tom put a hand on Harry's shoulder and smiled reassuringly while hissing for Nagini to calm before he turned his attention to his followers, his ruby eyes darkened and the smile gone from his lips.

"Elijah will be second to no one and he who dares make even the slightest move of hostility towards him shall suffer my wrath. As Elijah's support will lead us to victory, I will regard hostility directed towards him as nothing short of betrayal, not only to our cause and the Dark but primarily as a betrayal to myself," Tom warned them, his hand squeezing Harry's shoulder possessively leaving no one in doubt of the dire consequences one would face if foolish enough to near the vampire with ill intent.

"What of Harry Potter, my Lord?" a familiar voice asked and Harry turned to see Lucius Malfoy, the man's silver eyes watching him intently and giving a respectful nod as acknowledgement, yet there was something calculating and greedy in his gaze making it apparent that the Malfoy head would find a way to made use of Harry's close relationship to the Lord, especially as Harry had befriended Draco during his time at Hogwarts.

Tom's eyes brightened slightly and the corners of his mouth turned upwards into something one could compare with a smile. "Harry Potter is no longer a hinder to our plans," he answered simply, a true smile on his lips as he squeezed Harry's shoulder and the teen smiled in response.

No, Harry Potter wasn't the problem anymore – quite the contrary.

XXX

Harry sighed heavily and sank boneless onto the divan by the fire, one foot on the floor and his arms spread wide with his head comfortably tipped back and his eyes closed, his chest slowly rising and falling. His whole body felt numb and heavy yet contradictively weightless, his mind blank as if all thoughts and emotions had been emptied when the meeting ended, only slight relief that it had gone well remaining. He heard Tom mutter the counterspell to the glamour and the wisps of hair that had been tickling his neck disappeared to be replaced by his usual messy mop of black, long fingers combing through his hair and rubbing his scalp, making him hum in pleasure and tilt his head further back into the touch.

"You did very well, my little vampire," Tom praised him softly, his words like dark velvet and making Harry smile contently.

"As for your reward…"

Hot breath washed over his lips and then Tom's lips were sealed over his own, a tongue swiping over his bottom lip to make Harry grant entrance. Tongues swirled around each other, mapping and exploring abandoned and unnecessary as Harry sucked on the offered muscle, the action somewhat reassuring as he connected it to feeding yet highly arousing, making him moan as Tom's long fingers closed around his throat in a tender yet possessive touch that ridded of any possible doubt of who was dominant. After the many feedings they had shared, this felt familiar, comfortable and safe, and it allowed Harry to relax mindlessly into the pleasure it awoke in his body.

Tom withdrew and Harry tried to follow him up so as not to loose contact, but the grip around his throat hardened a fraction to make him stay in place and Tom's red gaze smirked down at him when he opened his own bleary eyes. They were still close, so close, their noses bumping together and their lips brushing lightly, the delicious heat of Tom's body seeping into Harry and warming his cold being.

"What do you want, Harry?" Tom asked teasingly, his fingers stroking the back of his neck and sending little sparks of pleasure down his spine. "How can I reward you, my little vampire?"

Harry gave the man a glare that truly held no resentment at all and opened his mouth… and blinked.

_What do I want? _

His muddled brain picked the question apart slowly and painstakingly, trying to make it comprehendible so that he would not simply answer the first thing that came to mind, and at length managed to provide an answer.

"I want," he began hesitantly and swallowed, looking up into Tom's ruby eyes uncertainly and seeing dark brows raised in question as it became apparent that the teen was not about to give the answer that Tom had expected.

"I want to see my friends," Harry mumbled, his voice faint and his eyes flickering back and forth between twin pools of blood. When Tom fell silent without answering, Harry hurried to explain. "Just Draco and Hermione, they've both helped me so much and I know they're worried about me. You don't have to worry about them trying to take me away or some such thing, either, since Draco already is one of your followers and Hermione would never go against her word, especially not since she already knows what's happened to me."

He stopped himself from saying more, knowing he was rambling and opting to wait in silence to hear what Tom had to say, keeping in mind that the older wizard was the one taking care of and protecting him. Bloodied eyes watched him intently and he steeled himself, unblinkingly meeting the red gaze to show that this was what he really wanted. Tom had asked, after all, and Harry had answered.

"Why would you want to see them?" Tom asked at length, his voice deep and dark and making Harry swallow even as a shiver chased down his spine.

"I miss them," he answered, his voice barely audible. Hermione and Draco had written and asked to see him, yes, but the main reason to why he asked Tom was that he wanted to see them as well. At the Mansion he was as good as alone with Tom and Minxy as the only exceptions, and he craved the company of his friends. Swallowing again and taking a deep breath, he gave Tom a pleading look and tried the last strategy he knew of.

"Please?"

Red eyes stared at him in shock and for the first time ever, Harry found that he had managed to make the Dark Lord speechless. The realization that he had succeeded with such a feat made him smirk cheekily up at Tom with a feeling of accomplishment, aware that few had ever seen the speechless, stunned face of the feared man hovering over him.

"You will not leave the Mansion, Harry," Tom demanded sternly in a tone that left no space for debate.

"They can come here to meet me," Harry answered quickly, determined to get what he wanted now that he seemed to have a chance of getting it.

"And how do you suggest we manage that?" Tom asked dryly, no doubt able to come up with a solution himself but seemingly unwilling to do so.

Harry frowned up at him and thought quickly, knowing there had to be some simple solution.

"They'll probably have a visit to Hogsmeade scheduled soon," he began, thinking aloud. "A Death Eater could meet them outside of the village and take them here with a portkey, then take them back to the village again."

"Wouldn't the teachers notice their absence?" Tom asked, a glint in his eyes and a smile on his lips, testing him.

"No," Harry answered confidently, shaking his head and messing his hair up further when he rubbed it against the cushion of the divan. "In third year, Ron, Hermione and I went to the outside of the village to meet with Sirius – no one noticed anything."

"Sirius? As in Sirius Black?" Tom question but apparently didn't need an answer and he was quick with his next question. "The female friend of yours is a muggleborn, is she not? What will guarantee her safety here, among Death Eaters and in the presence of the Dark Lord himself?"

"I will, and you will, too."

"Really?" A dark brow arched high but by now the smile was clearly one of amusement. "And what makes you think I'll call upon the services of one of my followers to escort your little friends?"

"But you will, won't you?" Harry answered with a smile, continuing before Tom could protest. "And you should probably send Malfoy to pick them up, since he's got the legit reason of wanting to meet his son should he be seen with them."

Red eyes narrowed slightly in thought, regarding him in silence as Harry waited for the verdict, and when Tom inclined his head in a miniscule nod it felt as if he would explode with the feeling of success.

"Severus can pick them up instead as I have a few things I wish to discuss with him," Tom said with a smile before he ducked his head down for his lips to brush against Harry's as he murmured: "Very good, my little vampire. You have earned a meeting with your friends."

Harry grinned happily and boldly lifted his head the few millimeters it took for their lips to connect, his head soon pressed into the comforter yet again as Tom leaned closer, their bodies pressed flush and the heat of the living causing Harry's cooled frame to warm, pleasurable tingles of arousal coming back to life and racing down his spine. Tom's hands were all over him, touching and feeling and burning, setting his skin on fire and igniting him, making him moan into the kiss when those strong hands with their long fingers stroked down his sides to grip his hips possessively.

His lips were suddenly abandoned and he found himself gasping for breath, panting to provide his lungs with the oxygen they had been depraved of. A moment later the breath left him again in a gasp as those skilled lips latched onto his neck, sucking hard to leave a mark and claim him even though they both knew that the mark would have faded and become inexistent by the time they were finished. Harry groaned, his chest vibrating and his voice going hoarse as the sound turned into a low growl, his vampire wanting to claim his human in turn. Reaching out he put his arms around Tom's back, his fingers curling like claws and his blunt nails digging into soft flesh, needing to keep his human in place and claiming a silver of control in this situation where dominance was denied him.

The sweet, dark smell of blood hit him and made him growl possessively, his hands moving to reposition Tom so that he would be able to reach his human's neck where his life pulsed just under the pale skin, liquid life calling out to him, enticing and seducing him with its dark promise. A dissatisfied growl left him when Tom didn't move, his neck inaccessible, but the growl ended in a surprised mewl of pleasure when a hand cupped his clothed erection, applying pressure and sending a wave of pleasure through his body. His dug his fingers further into Tom's back when long fingers started working on him, massaging his throbbing flesh, the smell of blood increasing along with his pleasure. Tom hissed against his neck and bit down, hard, causing Harry to gasp and groan, his hands dragging down Tom's back ripping both cloth and skin.

The torturous hand squeezed him and he threw his head back as a moan tore its way through his throat, and then there was a hand on his throat, the grip constricting and bruising, bloodied eyes glaring down at him.

"Remove your hands," the Dark Lord hissed darkly, and Harry's breath hitched at the threat in Tom's tone, his fingers immediately strengthening and his hands leaving the bleeding back, his nails red and fingers sticky.

_Blood_.

His hands were by his mouth before he could reflect over what he was doing, but before a single drop of sweet, dark liquid could touch his lips his wrists had been seized by an invisible force and pushed together over his head, denying him the blood he desired. A frustrated growl escaped him but was quickly silence when he was squeezed again, the hand on his throat moving out of sight as red eyes gleamed down at him in dark amusement, lust lurking in their depths. Then his finely tailored robe from Madam Malkin's was suddenly gone, his shirt quick to follow to bare his heaving chest, his stomach flat and muscles quivering.

The temporarily disappeared hand came into play again, making short work of the bottoms on his pants, fingers slipping in under the garments that covered him, his heart stilling for a moment when those long fingers grazed his public hair. When the hand continued down, closer and closer, closer still until he was finally gripped, his breathing came in short, frantic pants, his green eyes wide as he was worked into aching hardness, the silence in the room fleeing from the gasps and moans he unashamedly voiced.

Tom's body pressed down over his more slim frame, emerald eyes clouded with pleasure immediately drawn to the craned neck as the lust for blood remained unforgettable even in his undeniable state of… _distraction. _The blood was close now, close enough for him to be able to reach up and take it, take what was rightfully his and what his human should provide him with without hesitation, yet he did not reach up, did not take what should have been his as his vampire recognized Tom as his better. A needy, keening noise left him, his eyes pleading, asking permission, and the lust in those red eyes intensified, thriving on the power Tom had over his little vampire.

"Drink."

That simple word was enough, more then enough, and Harry's body arched up, his neck bending and stretching as his movements were restricted by the force holding his hands captivated, his nose reaching and sniffing, allowing him to inhale the scent of his human, donor and master, overwhelming and intoxicating, death and blood and a dark promise. His tongue followed, licking a long line against the neck presented to him, tonguing to pulse to find the artery where the flow would be the best before he let his elongated fangs sink into the skin, rich blood welling up from the punctures and flowing freely into his mouth, the taste alone making him groan as his eyes slipped shut.

His awareness shrunk, his senses overloaded with the blood that filled his veins with liquid pleasure, making him barely aware of what two long-fingered hands were doing to his shivering, hot body. He wasn't aware of the fact that the hand had left his hard length, barely recognized the fact that his pants and boxers were removed, only distantly felt his quivering thighs being stroked before a finger circled his puckered hole, making sure he was relaxed before a single digit breached him. Apart from a twitch, he didn't react as he was fingered, stretched and fondled, long fingers loosening him as he sucked on Tom's neck.

His human shifted above him and he whined when the neck was almost moved out of reach, his fangs digging further into the artery to keep his human in place and ensure the flow of blood would not be interrupted. As his mind had been completely lost to the blood, he was mentally unprepared for the sudden burn and uncomfortable stretch, his eyes snapping open and a gasp escaping him, making him retract his fangs and fall back onto the divan, his whole body trembling and tense. Emerald eyes stared widely up at Tom's face, the red orbs closed and his face tense, his jaw clenched as if he tried to keep something from escaping, and when his eyes opened Harry found them to be full of lust, desire and pleasure burning hotly in their depths.

He didn't understand, his shattered mind unable to comprehend what was happening after having been so harshly wrenched from the blood-induced trance, his chest rising and falling jerkily as he gasped for breath, his throat feeling constricted even through there was no hand there to constrict it. It felt as if he was being filled beyond his capacity, being intruded in the most personal parts, the sensations riding his body and mind foreign as no such thing had ever been done to him before.

A hand came down to stroke his cheek, then moved up to his hair to comb through the black mess and scratch at his scalp reassuringly.

"Breathe," Tom instructed, his voice hoarse and deep, heat simmering just underneath the controlled surface. "Breath, Harry."

Harry sucked in a deep breath and held it when Tom placed a finger over his lips, then let it all out in a rush of air before breathing in again, his body slowly relaxing and the tension slipping away as Tom assured him that everything was okay. The burn was still there, the feeling of being stretched and filled hadn't dissipated and it all felt weird and unpleasant, making his body squirm as he tried to ease the strange sensations.

Then it _moved_, pulling out slightly to push back in again, and Harry threw his head back and moaned, his back arching as Tom hit _right there_, blinding pleasure exploding through his body and making the strange and unfamiliar feelings fully acceptable, his muddled brain producing the thought that anything would be okay if only it lead to _this_. He had no idea of what to do so as to make it feel even better, knew no techniques or trick, but he craved more contact and wanted to touch and feel, not only be touched and felt. His arms strained against the invisible bonds holding his hands captivated above his head and the restraint snapped, leaving his hands free to reach up and latch his arms around Tom's neck, his narrow chest pressing up against Tom's strong torso.

A hand stroked down his stomach to grab his leaking arousal, squeezing and stroking, and Harry's chest vibrated as he moaned deeply, the friction provided by the hand along with the thrusts that repeatedly hit deep inside of him, _there_, soon became too much for his inexperienced body and he came with a choked gasp. His whole body went boneless, all tension leaving him to make him a limp mess on the divan, his heart thundering madly and his chest heaving as breathed deeply, his mind pleasantly distant.

Tom didn't last much longer, his completion drawn out of him as Harry tightened around his length, a strangled groan ripping itself from his throat before he sank down over his little vampire, their breaths mingling as they slowly came down form their high. Harry breathed deeply, comfortable under Tom's weight, his breathing slowing and his thundering heart calming, his eyes half lidded and body heavy. Tom's scent was everywhere, above him, around him, on him, and he found himself to be utterly and truly claimed by the man. As his mind started functioning again, a heated flush crept up his neck to colour his face, yet there was a slight smile playing on his lips.

If this was what it was like to be owned by the Dark Lord, then he did not mind one bit.

**I hope you enjoyed! ;D**

**I got a review from the sweet noelnoel2 asking for the meaning of my penname, so I thought I might as well tell all of you ;) It is originally the name I took when creating my YouTube account and I initially wanted to have the name 'doyouseeme', but as it had already been taken I took the easy way out and exchanged 'see' for '000'. Today I usually read it as doyouoweme, as noelnoel2 correctly guessed ;) Since it's "my name" now, it was a given that I would use the same name here on FFN. So now you know :) If there's anything else anyone want to know, just ask and I'll be happy to answer ^^ **


	35. Chapter 35

**I feel like a broken record but THANK YOU ALL FOR THE WONDERFUL REVIEWS! It seems I really managed to _satisfy _some of you this time ;D I haven't answered all that many reviews (sorry 'bout that) so I'd just like to say that your reviews warm my heart and makes me smile! 3**

Harry awoke to a definite sense of contentment and fulfilment, warmth in his chest that could not possibly be physical and his stomach light, making it feel as if he was drifting away on a white, fluffy cloud with the sun warming him and the blue, clear sky stretching out above him. As it was, he was being hugged close by the bedding, the cover rolled up and embracing the length of his back, his body curled up to spoon the pillow he clutched tightly to his chest and the afghan twisted messily around his legs, the heat of the crackling fire along with the warmth left behind by a strong, living body keeping his cool being from feeling cold.

Shifting among the sheets, he winced at the slight burn in his lower back, the soreness reminding him of the… _intimate activities _he had shared with Tom the previous evening, his face heating at the reminder yet he could not bring himself to regret it – it had simply felt too good. To be held and stroked and touched and _dominated _like that was an entirely novel experience to him, unlike anything he had ever felt before, and he had been completely unprepared for the sheer insensitivity of it all. While he was not completely innocent, this was simply too much, too different, for anything he'd previously experienced to compare to. He had touched himself just like every other boy his age, but it held nothing against feeling those strong hands stroking him, those long fingers touching and teasing and scratching in all the right places.

Then again, he had been with Draco before he returned to the Manor but that, too, had been so very different. Being with Draco had always been somewhat hurried, their encounters quick and occurring in some hidden corner of the school, the knowledge that they might be found making them speed things up and casing them to tone it down so that they could not be overheard. No such elements of disturbance existed when he was with Tom, their shared intimacy slow and pleasurable, mind-blowing and leaving him utterly carefree, making him suspect he would not react if a Death Eater walked in on them – he doubted he would even notice. Then again, the unfortunate Death Eater would never have the chance to spread the truth of their relationship as Tom would no doubt hex him or her into oblivion for daring to disturb them.

The sound of Tom's muffled voice drifted through the closed door that lead to the office, the deep and commanding tone drawing Harry's attention and distracting him from his thoughts, his enhanced senses allowing him to pick up on a few words but he wasn't able to hear enough to understand what Tom was talking about – or with whom, for that matter. Apart from Tom's voice and the crackling of the fire, both the one in the bedroom and the one in the office, he couldn't hear anything, so who was the Dark Lord talking with? Or perhaps he was simply dealing out orders and didn't need answers?

The door was nudged open for Nagini to slither into the bedroom, her strong coils moving in a hypnotising manner as she made her way across the floor towards the big bed where Harry lay, the door closing smoothly of its own accord behind her once she was safely inside. She disappeared from view for a while, the bedclothes creating mountains on the bed and blocking Harry's view, but then her flat head rose over the edge of the bed, her tongue flickering out to taste the air before she started pulling her massive body up onto the soft mattress. Harry reached out to her, his hand finding her coils to stroke her scales, a hiss of appreciation being his reward as she slithered closer to curl up beside him where the sheets were still warm.

"_Massster'sss sssnakeling sssmellsss more of Massster then before,_" Nagini noted, for some reason sounding father pleased with the development, and Harry blushed at the thought of what had caused him to attract more of Tom's smell.

"_Would you tell me who Tom isss ssspeaking to, oh ssstrong and pretty?_" Harry asked, quickly changing the subject as he willed the heat from his face.

"_The one sssmelling ssstrangely isss in the fire,_" was Nagini's disinterested answer, making Harry raise his brows in question. The part about being in the fire must mean that whoever Tom was talking to was using the floo, but who might Nagini refer to as "the one smelling strangely"?

"_Good strangely or bad strangely?_" he tried, fishing for hints as to who the one in the fire might be, but all he received in response was a blank look as if the great snake had no idea of what he was talking about.

The murmur from the other side of the door fell silent and Harry looked up in time to see the door open to reveal Tom in a black shirt and slacks, too formal and elegant for the early morning yet Harry couldn't possibly picture the Dark Lord in anything less formal – just seeing him in anything but the uniform black robe was quite a surprise, a surprise Harry's sleepy mind failed to react to. Spreading him arms wide as if expecting a hug, he gave the man a welcoming smile, his face heating when those red eyes met his emeralds yet his smile remained unwavering, warmth in his green orbs.

_It's okay, it felt good, nothing to be embarrassed about, don't make this awkward because that wouldn't bee good, it's not like you wish it undone… _his thoughts rambled, the arguments going in circles in his head, every single one completely true. His blush slowly dissipated and his smile widened, his body heavy and relaxed and filled with the feeling of utter contentment.

"How are you feeling this morning, my little vampire?" Tom asked softly, closing the door and walking over to the bed, red eyes gleaming rather predatorily as they slid over Harry's naked torso and mussed hair, the lower half of his body covered by the afghan that was now pooling around his waist. The purple marks that had littered his neck was all gone, the last having faded and melted away during the night to leave smooth, unblemished skin, a new, clean canvas to paint in purple and red again whenever he wished. The only thing remaining after their activities was the slight soreness in Harry's backside, making Harry immensely grateful for vampire healing.

Harry answered with a mock glare and reached out to tug the cover towards him, pulling it over his shoulders for him to huddle under, creating his own little utopia of covers and pillows. He could see Tom's eyes darkening when his bare body was covered and hidden from view, and Harry had to put in a real effort to refrain from grinning. Sticking out his plump bottom lip in a pout, he frowned angrily.

"I'm _sore_," he complained, porously putting the whine in his voice, the statement making ruby eyes widen a fraction before his lips curled into a smug smirk. Harry stuck his tongue out and grinned back, the light feeling intensifying and making it feel as if he was indeed hovering a few centimetres over the soft mattress. It was so easy, so simple, so _right_.

_Don't question, don't hesitate, it feels good so it's okay – right?_

"Have you asked Minxy for breakfast?" Tom asked smoothly, the smug smirk lingering in the line of his lips, otherwise the perfect gentleman.

"No," Harry answered, frowning. He wasn't hungry, even though he probably should be since he had barely eaten any dinner the day before and last night had been rather… _taxing_. He shook his head slowly, wondering…

"I'm not hungry," he clarified, making Tom raise his brows inquiringly.

"Is that so?" he answered, something moving in his eyes that told Harry that the man before him knew something that Harry had yet to realize, yet he wasn't sharing. Before he could ask Tom to entrust him with his enlightenment, Tom had continued.

"I have made Severus privy to your little adventure of meeting your friends, and he has reported that their next visit to Hogsmeade will come to pass the coming Saturday, meaning that will also be the date for your little reunion," he said, his wording rather patronizing yet the attitude wasn't reflected in neither tone nor gaze. "I imagine it is a well chosen opportunity as it will be the day after Halloween – the other students will no doubt be in a frenzy over the festivities."

Harry stared at him, wide-eyed. Was it already time for Halloween? His time at the Mansion had made him rather disoriented when it came to the days of week and dates of the month, and it felt as if all too much time had passed all too quickly. No wonder Hermione and Draco had been worried about him – they hadn't heard anything from him for quite a while. Of course, it didn't feel as long for him since he had not been fully conscious for some time.

"Wait…" he mumbled after a moment when it finally registered who Tom had been talking to, who it was that had been in the fire. A smirk claimed his lips.

"Snape is the one smelling strangely?"

Tom gave him a confused look, and Harry winked conspiratorially at Nagini who did not deign herself to answer the gesture. Then he shone up and turned to Tom, a hopeful smile on his lips.

"Can I write to Hermione and Draco to tell them that we'll meet? I think they'd like to hear it from me first instead of getting second-hand information from Snape."

Amusement grew in red eyes and a dark brow was raised, an indulgent smile on Tom's lips. "I will read whatever you write to see that you do not write anything that might compromise your identity or location," he stated and Harry immediately nodded, his already wonderful morning having gotten even better.

XXX

_Hermione and Draco, _

_I have finally talked to Tom, and he agreed!  
You can get all the details from Snape. _

_I can't wait!_

XXX

A warm, heartfelt smile spread over Hermione's lips, warmth and happiness along with relief and anticipation bubbling in her chest. The note that had arrived with an unfamiliar owl at breakfast was shorter then ever, ridiculously short, unbelievably simple and unsigned, making it rather brilliant since no one but those already privy to the situation would be able to interpret it. To her, however, it seemed so typically Harry that it could only mean one thing, the excitement making her eyes glitter delightfully.

Looking up from her seat at the Gryffindor table, she looked between studying Ravenclaws with a dreamy Luna Lovegood in the middle and Hufflepuffs who were bantering amicably over breakfast to lock her gaze onto the table decorated with green and silver on the other end of the Great Hall, brown eyes swiping the length of the table to find the familiar foursome of Slytherins eating their breakfast and reading their morning mail. Pale hair was as impeccably fixed as always, not a single hair astray, silver eyes moving back and forth over the letter he held, a letter far longer then the one Hermione had received. Then those eyes rose to find her after a momentary search, and Hermione was struck with the realization of how the silver orbs looked like twinkling stars, shining in the velvet canopy of the night sky. It someone told her that Draco had been born blind and that his parents had plucked stars from the sky to give their son sight, she would have believed them.

Draco inclined his head to the side, tilting it slightly towards the doors leading to the Entrance Hall, and Hermione nodded eagerly, wanting to share her information. She rose from her seat, gaining a dark look from Ronald who sat further down the table when the redhead saw that she was going to meet with Draco, a look she firmly ignored as she took her half finished toast with her and made her way out of the Hall, leaving the many chattering students behind to converge with Draco just outside of the open double doors. They walked in silence, passing through the doors leading out to the castle grounds side by side, fallen leaves crunching as they walked on them, the grass soggy from rain under their feet. There was a rather harsh wind pulling at their robes and stirring up waves on the surface of the Black Lake, making Hermione wonder how many charms Draco must use to make his hair stay in place like that while her own messy locks danced wildly around her head.

"I got a letter from Elijah," Hermione stated after a while, unable to stay silent any longer with all the excitement bubbling inside, threatening to explode. "He has talked to Tom and we'll get to meet him!"

The eyes of stars turned to her, glittering happily and giving light to the smile on his lips. "Really? I didn't think _he_ would agree, but perhaps…" He glanced down at the letter in his hand, then looked up at Hermione again. "Do you know when and where?"

"No," she answered, shaking her head and pushing back the hair that had blown into her mouth. "He wrote that professor Snape knows, however, so we'll have to ask him for the details."

Draco smiled and nodded, obviously as happy about the news as Hermione was, and then glanced down at the long letter again, hesitating before returning his attention to the Gryffindor walking by his side, her brows raised in question at his hesitance. She was questioning quietly, yet didn't probe, didn't demand any answers as she had learnt to trust him enough to know that he would tell her if she needed to know, trusted him enough to understand that some things were private and needed to remain so.

"It's from my father," he said rather stiffly after moment of silence, and it was apparent that he didn't have to specify what 'it' was as Hermione immediately nodded in encouragement. "Apparently, there was a meeting yesterday… with _him_, and everyone was there even though no one seemed to know why – usually it's to issue orders or plan something, but this time, it was to introduce someone new to the group."

Earth met the stars when Draco looked her in the eyes, and she knew who the new one at the meeting had been before the name fell over his lips.

"Elijah was there."

Hermione inhaled deeply and slowly let the breath out again, raising her toast to her lips and nibbling on it to gain some time to think, to sort this out and come up with something to say. She knew she should have expected it since she knew that Harry was on Voldemort's side now, something she really couldn't blame him for since she herself had started to question the ideals and "truths" she had so far lived by, stepping further and further into a zone of grey, a borderline between the Dark and the Light. Yet it hadn't occurred to her that Harry would officially become an ally to the Dark as she'd thought he would rather stay in the borderland of grey then take a stand, but it had been foolish of her to think that the Dark Lord would ever allow that since Harry was such a powerful ally to have, even if in the shape of Elijah.

"Was he marked?" she asked softly, dreading the answer. After all that had happened, she simply couldn't picture Harry with that ugly skull on his arm.

"No," Draco shook his head and Hermione breathed a little more easily. "He was introduced as an ally of great importance because he is a vampire, and especially because he, well…"

Hermione raised her brows in question when Draco suddenly looked uncomfortable and his pale cheeks were coloured in a light pink, making her smile as she'd never seen him embarrassed before.

"He feeds from _him_," he croaked out, his face colouring further at the admission.

Brown eyes widened and Hermione felt her face flush, remembering what she'd read of how vampires reacted to feeding, causing certain… _activities_ to follow. But for Harry… to do _that_ with- with the Dark Lord.

"Oh, dear Merlin," she breathed and Draco nodded by her side. "Well, that explains a few things, I guess… like H-_his_ trust in Tom, and why Elijah would agree to join officially… I can't see why Tom wouldn't prefer to keep it a secret, though?"

She turned to Draco with the question and found a slight, ironic smile quirking his lips.

"It's supposed to be a secret within the circle, I guess, with only followers knowing the identity of each other," he shrugged, somehow turning the simple gesture into something polished. "My father, however, thinks the Malfoy family will be favoured now that I am such a close friend to Elijah, and so decided to enlighten me of this development and ensure that I play the part of friend well enough to stay in Elijah's good graces."

The blonde snorted and shook his head, a dry smile on his lips and light amusement flickering in his eyes as if he was all too used to such things to care anymore. Hermione looked at him, wondering over the ways of the old wizarding families and silently asking herself if all old families were like the Malfoys. Or rather, the older Malfoy, she reminded herself as they turned to walk back, aiming their steps towards Snape's rooms.

Silence settled over them yet again as they walked towards the castle looming above them as a relief against the clouds littering the sky, making it look like spilt, black water paint mixed with too much water. Hermione munched at the last piece of her toast, repeatedly stroking back her hair to keep it out of her face, feeling a bit envious at Draco and his seemingly perfect hair that stayed in place so obediently.

"Don't you think…?" Draco began, his voice soft and the words uttered slowly as if he was somewhat unsure of them, yet he turned to Hermione with a look in his eyes that was clearly mischievous, a grin twitching in the corners of his mouth.

"What?" she asked suspiciously, recognizing the look as some distant relative to the look the two Weasley twins usually adopted when coming up with some really bad prank.

"Well, don't you think that Elijah would be rather… _pleased_ if we could deliver some good news to him when we meet him?"

"What good news are we talking about?" Hermione asked with a frown, thought there was a suspicion coming to life in her mind and she wasn't quite sure if she liked the thought or not.

The grin claimed Draco's lips fully, erasing all doubt of what the Slytherin was talking about.

XXX

The plan was finished and Hermione had been made privy to the whole thing so that disagreement wouldn't become a factor at the very end where the questionable part came in, the part the Gryffindor witch still didn't like but found herself agreeing with anyway, having decided with full determination that Umbridge deserved it. Torturing students with that quill of hers, depraving them of education they needed more now then ever, abusing her authority and slandering Harry – even though Hermione's morals were protesting, she found herself unfazed. The horrid woman would get what she deserved.

As it was, she'd made her decision and didn't have all that much time to think about it, finding herself thrown into a charade of half-truths where reality became awfully exaggerated and bared to the world like never before. While it hadn't been a secret that Draco and Hermione along with the rest of the students at Hogwarts disliked Umbridge, it had always been untold knowledge concealed by forced politeness and proper behaviour, all of which were now gone, thrown to the wind. As soon as the two of them were together or came in contact with Umbridge or her name in any way, they displayed open hatred and disgust, glaring and sneering in her direction, almost spitting when hearing her name.

Draco seemed to be a natural at it, bearing with him many years of experience as he looked down his nose at the short, pink-clad woman as if she was dirt on his shoe that he would take the first possibly opportunity to scrape off, his sneers and condescending looks making Hermione realize that the hostility between Harry and Draco had become more uniform then emotional lately. Knowing she wouldn't be able to put on a show as impressive as Draco's, she opted for glaring and frowning, showing her dislike for the woman openly and behaving rudely, dropping the politeness she so neatly upheld towards all other professors. The fact that she stopped behaving like a model student whenever Umbridge was around spoke for itself.

In the beginning, Hermione had felt uncomfortable and unsure, not used to showing her dislike for teachers openly and feeling out of depth when her role as model student was suddenly not there to lean against anymore. After a while, thought, when she'd learnt to let forth her previously hidden feelings for the wile woman, it started feeling _right _in some twisted, strange kind of way. She realized she had kept her feelings bottled up until they were a hard knot charged with negative feelings in her chest, and to let those feelings loose, to untie the knot, was like lifting a great burden from her shoulders, making her feel as if something ugly and rotten had grown in her chest and now it had finally been freed. Perhaps she should have been ashamed now that those ugly feelings could be seen by anyone. Perhaps she should feel bad for giving in to them, letting them surface and giving them freedom.

She wasn't ashamed and she didn't feel bad in the least.

It only ever felt good to relieve the pressure.

Their behaviour didn't go unnoticed and neither was it supposed to, their outright hostility known to every student and most importantly to Umbridge herself. Rumours started spreading, rumours they hadn't given life to but that served them anyway, rumours saying that Draco and Hermione, with the help of their secret group of students that everyone knew of, would soon complete their task of ridding the school of the pink toad. Soon, they would put their plan into action and the toad would be on the receiving end of it, resulting in her disappearance for the cold halls of Hogwarts. Every student knew this, as did the professors, as did Umbridge.

As soon as Hermione or Draco were in her proximity, she would keep her bulging, brown eyes locked onto them, never leaving them while in class or moving from one end of the Great Hall to the other as she tried to keep track of the two of them at the same time while they sat at their respective house tables. Some days, Hermione would break the unwritten law and take a seat beside Draco at the Slytherin table to sit close and whisper with the blonde, seemingly openly plotting the horrid woman's demise, glancing at her repeatedly so that there was no doubt as to what they were talking about – and to catch the rather distressed look on her features.

Something would happen, soon.

And everyone knew that when it did, Hermione and Draco would be the ones behind it.

Except, of course, for a few chosen persons privy to the truth, among them being a pair of twins, identical to the very last freckle.

It was a less known fact that said twins were keeping themselves more busy then ever, hiding away in their dorm thought not making any attempts to hide their location as loud explosions erupted regularly, making the Gryffindors in the common room jump the first few times before they got used to the sound of a world war being fought in the seventh year male dorm. The explosions were often followed by a thin layer of smoke ghosting down the stairs before dissipating, smoke that everyone soon learned to stay away from after Lee Jordan had walked into the dorm room shortly after an explosion, the smoke filling the room causing him to faint on the spot. The ginger twins had been found observing their unconscious friend where he lay on the floor, taking special note of the drool dripping to the floor and taking the time to see how long their friend was out for. Such was the advantage of pulverized Fainting Fancies that you inhaled instead of the original pill – you woke up without having to swallow the counterpart of the pill, but it had proven quite hard to calculate how long one would be unconscious as it depended on how much of the pulverized Fainting Fancies you inhaled.

The disadvantages was the headache that followed and the fact that you could not control who was affected as the smoke spread unhindered within the room, causing everyone who inhaled it to faint – but those problems, the twins decided, were unimportant. These little bombs were not meant to be sold like the Fainting Fancies, Puking Pastilles and Nosebleed Nougat, but had a special purpose of their own.

XXX

Dolores Umbridge was a short, squat woman dressed from top to toe in pink with the only exception of the black velvet bow in her hair. Of course, she had heard the students comparing her to a toad, but she could not at all see the likeliness between herself and such an ugly, slimy creature with their wet croaks and many warts. No, she could only find one word that was fit to describe her, perhaps two.

Sweet and cute.

Such were, after all, all the things she adored, from the sweetness in her voice to the cute kittens jumping on the plates in her office; from the cute built of her body to the sweet pink of her clothes. Yes, sweet and cute truly were the only words with which one could describe her. Of course, the children were unable to see this as they were too uneducated and had been left to their own devices. It was truly regrettable how the once so splendid Hogwarts had deteriorated to become so lax and tolerant, letting the children rampage instead of disciplining them as professors should.

It fact, that was all the children needed, she decided not for the first time as she walked down the stone corridor, her high heels – pink, of course – echoing a rhythmic tone of click-clack, click-clack through the halls, alerting everyone of her presence.

These children needed discipline and a steady hand to guide them, and since coming to Hogwarts she had seen how great the need for discipline truly was. If the Ministry took control now and put these children right again, then most of them could surely be saved with the exception of those who were too far gone to be receptive of any kind of salvation.

That boy, Spring, had been a prime example of the lost youth, as was the nosy Gryffindor girl, Granger. It was unsightly how a muggleborn like her went against the authorities when she should be nothing but grateful that they let her use magic at all, especially she was so undeserving. It was more then obvious that some of the students at Hogwarts should never be allowed to have any schooling as they were more fit to live in the muggle world without their wands.

Dumbledore was doubtlessly the one to blame for the corruption of the students, especially after having created that group that seemed to have the purpose of overpowering the Ministry. She was not the least bit surprised that Granger was a member and even a leader of the group, but she found it disappointing that the young Malfoy had been pulled into it as well. The boy came from such a fine family, after all – she would have expected him to be able to choose the right path instead of letting himself be drawn into such nonsense.

Hopefully, with a bit of discipline, the boy could be put onto the right path again.

With that thought and a sugary sweet smile she stepped into her office, the kittens on the wall mewling happily as she walked over to her desk, letting the door close behind her. The day had been tiring, more so then usual as she had to keep track of Malfoy and Granger at all times to make sure that they did not put their malicious plan into action – and if they did, then she would make sure to be there and put an end to it. With a bit of persuasion, she was sure she would be able to pull a confession out of them and make them tell her of Dumbledore's involvement so that she could rely the information to Fudge. If they were lucky, the old, eccentric man would be out of the school before Christmas and she would be able to take his place in the headmaster's office.

She was unaware of the small, grey orb that lay hidden under the cushion of her office chair and did not hear it crack when she sat down. However, the loud blast that sounded much like an explosion was impossible to miss and it caused the woman to jump up from her seat, shrieking in shock as her painted kittens whined and mewled, white smoke welling out from under the cushion on her chair to fill the room, making her couch as she inhaled it.

The world dimmed before her eyes and she was unconscious before she hit the floor.

**It's relatively short, I know, but I thought it was the best place to break it off seeing as we will get a little action next chapter. **

**I hope you liked it and please do review! :)**


	36. Chapter 36

**Here comes the promised action as we (um, Draco and Hermione…) go through with the plan! :) Hope you enjoy it and try to look between your fingers when it comes to grammar and spelling for a bit – me and dad are making joint efforts to salvage our internet connection O,o**

It felt like it was the middle of the night when a sharp crack woke Hermione from her rather fitful sleep, the knowledge of what the Weasley twins had done and what it would most likely result in making her too nervous to be able to sleep restfully. Brown eyes snapped open and widened in shock when she saw Umbridge standing over the side of her bed, her hair dishevelled, her mouth in a tight line and her eyes staring wildly, something crazed lurking in their depths. Glancing at the clock on her bedside table and seeing that it was indeed the middle of the night, Hermione knew that this was what they'd been waiting for, what they'd been working for. Still, seeing the woman standing over her with that look in her eyes and both her own and Hermione's wand clutched tightly in her meaty fingers, she couldn't help but wonder if this would really go their way.

"Up," the woman hissed furiously and Hermione quickly threw the covers aside to scramble out of bed, catching sight of Lavender peeking out between the hangings around her bed, no doubt woken by the samecrack that had woken Hermione. Her fellow Gryffindor looked torn, uncertain, then mouthed a silent _good luck _before disappearing behind the hangings again, hiding away in the safety of her bed.

Hermione swallowed and reached for a robe to pull over her nightgown, quickly stepping into a pair of slippers. The tip of a wand poked the side of her ribcage harshly before she could reach the robe, and her hand stilled mid-air.

"Don't even think about it, you stupid girl," Umbridge hissed, making Hermione stare at her with eyes wide in disbelief. The woman couldn't possibly mean to parade her through the castle in nothing but her nightgown, could she?

"Hurry up!"

The wand poked her harshly again, forcing her to bite back a wince and surely leaving a bruise. Biting her bottom lip to stop herself from saying anything she would regret, Hermione let herself be led from the dorm, down to the thankfully empty common room and through the portrait hole to walk the cold halls of Hogwarts, the chill in the air biting into her bared skin and making her shiver as goose bumps erupted all over her body. She threw her arms around herself, hugging herself tightly in a pitiful attempt to hide her near nakedness and preserve a little warmth.

In Hermione's opinion, they couldn't reach the horrid woman's office fast enough with the castle being so cold and the risk of someone finding them. What if they came across a professor or a prefect patrolling the corridors after curfew? Not only would their plan no doubt be curbed, but she would surely die of shame. Parading through Hogwarts in nothing but slippers and her nightgown with a wand digging into her back had not been accounted for in their plan.

When they finally reached the office, Draco was already there, sitting on a chair and turning to them as they walked in, his silver eyes widening dramatically for effect as he pretended to be surprised that Hermione had been caught with him. He was dressed in a cosy flannel pyjama with slippers _and _his Slytherin-green night robe but without his wand, his hair slightly tousled and not perfectly in place, even though he'd obviously run his hands through it a few timed to attempt some kind of order.

Then real surprise flittered in those star-like eyes as they travelled down her body, taking in her lack of proper clothing and lingering a bit too long at her breasts, swelled by her arms as she hugged herself, and her bare legs. She felt her face heat in embarrassment and was almost grateful to the woman when Umbridge snapped at her to sit in the chair beside Draco, giving her an excuse to move instead of standing still under the scrutiny of those eyes. Sitting down she dropped her head to have her curly hair hide her flushed face and kept her hands in her lap, wringing them nervously as she felt Draco's lingering gaze.

At least the pink office was warmer then the corridors had been.

The pink toad walked around the desk, keeping a distrustful eye on them before she lifted the cushion to check under it, making sure there wasn't another of the twins' little bombs under it before sitting down, the extra caution making a smirk twitch in the corner of Hermione's mouth before she managed to suppress it.

"I trust the two of you know why you are here," Umbridge began, her voice overly sweet and making Hermione shudder in revulsion.

None of them answered, instead opting to sit in silence, playing the part of rebellious teenagers – or Dumbledore's loyalists.

"Don't think you'll be able to walk away from here without answering tonight," Umbridge warned, her voice positively dripping with syrup. "Of course I understand that you are not to be blamed since you are underage and so impressionable, but if you do not answer my questions I will be forced to expel you both since you have tried to kill a professor and a Ministry official."

Hermione sagged in her seat, adopting the look of someone who'd given up, resigned herself to her destiny, while she saw Draco stiffen by her side.

"Now that we understand each other; tell me who the leader of your group is."

Draco glanced at her in well played hesitance and Hermione immediately shook her head, making Draco keep his mouth closed.

"Are you truly that loyal to the old Headmaster?" Umbridge asked with false sweetness that made Hermione shudder again. Any and all doubts she'd had of if the woman deserved this were shrivelling up and disappearing, leaving her determined and grimly anticipating what was to come.

"Since I already happen to know that your little group is led by Dumbledore, you can tell me who else, apart from the two of you, is participating."

This time it was Draco who shook his head before swallowing loudly.

"I'm sorry, professor," he apologized and Hermione would only imagine how hard it must be for him to press the words over his lips. She knew for sure that she wouldn't have been able to do it. "But… we really can't tell."

"How so, Malfoy?" False understanding and revolting sweetness made Hermione clench her fists in her lap to stop herself from doing anything stupid, to force herself to sit still.

"We've been sworn to secrecy," Draco lied smoothly, sounding truly regretful.

"Oh," Umbridge voiced, clearly disappointed. "And who forced these vows on you? Was it Dumbledore?"

"Yes, professor," Draco whispered, nodding slightly. Never would Hermione understand how he could continue playing his part so well when she felt as if she was close to exploding.

"Well, that is truly regrettable," Umbridge said sweetly, leaning back in her chair, smiling widely. "Surely there must be _something _you can tell me? After all, you wouldn't want to be expelled, would you now?"

The threat hung in the air and played hesitance flickered in Draco's eyes as his bit his lip, seemingly unsure of what to do. Hermione, however, knew that he was fully aware of what he was to do.

"Not even a bitsie-witsie little thing? No? Well then…"

"Wait," Draco suddenly spoke up, his eyes flickering to Hermione before he locked his gaze onto the desk, not looking directly at the toad before him.

"There is one thing…"

"Yes, Malfoy?" she asked sweetly, leaning forward eagerly, her eyes sparkling.

"There is this thing that we could show you…"

"No, Draco!" Hermione snapped, turning her head slightly to the side to glare at him. It wasn't all that hard when pretending that he was the toad.

"Shut up, you little bint! Let the boy talk!"

Draco took a deep breath, pretending to gather his courage, and told her: "There is this thing in the Forbidden Forest that Dumbledore has had us building…"

"Go on, my boy, tell professor Umbridge," she encouraged sweetly. "What is it that he has made you build?"

"A weapon."

"A weapon? A weapon? Has Dumbledore made you build some kind of weapon that is to be used to overpower the Ministry?"

"Yes, yes," Draco agreed, nodding.

"What kind of weapon is it? What does it do?"

"I…," Draco began, hesitating. "I actually don't know…"

"You don't know?" Umbridge asked, clearly disappointed.

"No, Dumnledore never told us. We just did as he asked, but I'm sure, if _you_ saw it, professor Umbridge, you'd understand."

The little bit of false praise worked like a spell, making the woman sit straighter as her smirk widened, threatening to eat her whole face.

"Show me to it, then! Come on, then, both of you! Show the way!" she ordered, pointing her wand that them and stuffing their wands into the pocket of her pink tweed jacket.

They rose, chairs scraping against the stone floor, the toad posing as their professor gesturing for the to walk before her so that she'd be able to see whatever they did and also keep her wand trained at them, assuring that they wouldn't be able to do a thing. The halls of Hogwarts were silent and dark, their walk illuminated by the _lumos_ shining at the tip of Umbridge's wand, casting long shadows in front of Hermione and Draco as they walked in silence. Portraits with sleeping occupants lined the walls, a few of them waking and grumbling over the harsh light, some watching in silent curiosity when the two students were paraded past them with only their sleepwear to shield them from the chill of the air and a professor watching them with the threat of her wand. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw an elderly wizard slip out of his portrait with a rather alarmed expression, most likely going to alert someone of what was happening. Would it be good for them if one of the professors was alerted, or would it put a stop to their plan? Would it benefit them or ruin everything?

Save for the moving portraits and occasionally shuffling armours, the halls of Hogwarts were empty and Hermione silently wondered where all the patrolling teachers and prefects were when things such as this happened. Reaching the Entrance Hall undetected they stepped out into the cold night, an icy wind creeping in under the little clothing they wore, making Hermione's teeth clatter as she shook like a leaf with only her nightgown to protect her from the cold – an entirely useless protection that made Hermione wonder if she would feel any different walking into the night wearing nothing at all. Perhaps then she would have been embarrassed enough for the heat of her blush to warm her.

Hermione startled when something warm and rather fluffy was suddenly thrown around her shoulders, and she looked up to find Draco draping his night robe around her to give her some warmth, his own body getting better protection by the pyjama he was wearing that at least covered everything, even if it could not have provided much warmth. Brown eyes widened in surprise and gratitude and she stepped closer to the Slytherin walking by her side, his arm coming around her back for his hand to rest in one of the pockets of his robe, consequently hugging Hermione closer to his side. The cold was still biting since they both wore far too little clothing for the season, their slippers soon dirtied and wet with the cold leaking through them to their otherwise bare feet, but sharing warmth made it bearable.

As they were both walking rather quickly to get this over and done with so that they could return to the castle and warm themselves by a sparkling fire, it didn't take long before they walked past the first few trees and entered the darkness of the Forbidden Forest where the sparse light of the moon was hidden by the lush crowns of the old, gnarled trees. Once again the artificial light of the _lumos_ was the only thing lightening their path as they made their way between thorny bushes and over twisting roots seeking to trip them, forcing them to lower their pace.

The forest rustled around them, as alive as ever, watching their every move and waiting for a chance to attack. After four years at Hogwarts the two students were quite familiar with the forest, knowing how it looked and sounded during the dark nights and therefore mentally prepared for it, a benefit Umbridge did not have. Every time a bush rustled, she flinched. An owl hooting in the distance made her gasp and the sound of a howl that travelled for an even grater distance actually made her squeak. If she went to Hogwarts for her magical education, she obviously didn't frequent the Forbidden Forest, and the result was quite satisfactory. Hermione had always found the forest creepy and frightening with the many dangerous creatures that lurked in the darkness just out of sight, and this was the first time she found herself walking through it with a smile on her lips as she let herself enjoy Umbridge's distress.

"Is it much further?" Umbridge asked, her voice a pitch higher then usual, the sweetness lost to her fretfulness.

Hermione searched the surrounding forest with her gaze, looking for things that were familiar, trying to decide if they had walked far enough or if they would have to move further into the depths of the dark forest. There was a clearing to the left, a pit of bared soil streaked by roots that seemed vaguely familiar and Hermione decided to take the chance and hope that they were being overheard.

"We really shouldn't walk any further," she stated, making a point of looking around as if worried that someone would hear them while talking loud enough to ensure that anyone close enough would be able to hear her.

"Any why is that?" Umbridge asked, some of her sweetness returning to her otherwise mocking tone.

"This is centaur territory," Hermione explained, looking for any sign of movement around them only to find the forest perfectly still. "We shouldn't intrude."

"Intrude?" Umbridge repeated in disbelief. "They have no legal claim over this forest so if there is anyone _intruding _it would be them!"

"Please, professor," Draco mumbled, a nervous and entirely faked undertone to his voice. "Please, lower your voice – what if they hear you?"

"What if they hear me? It is inconsequential if they hear us as those half-breeds should be naught but grateful to us for letting them stay here."

Brown and grey eyes flickered to the side when a twig snapped and Hermione felt excitement, nervousness and worry swirling in her chest, adrenaline pumping thought her veins even as she worried that something would go wrong, that the outcome wouldn't be what they expected it to be. What if the centaurs found out that they were indirectly being used? Such proud creatures surely wouldn't react favourably to that. And what if Umbridge had something up her sleeve, some kind of protection provided by the Ministry?

There was no going back now, thought. They only had themselves to blame for being here and the only way to get back to the castle and out of the cold was to continue without hesitation.

"How can you say something like that?" Hermione spat out, turning on her heal so that she was facing Umbridge, her brown eyes narrowed. "Do you really think yourself better?"

"Of course!" Umbridge answered in a tone that implied Hermione's lacking intelligence, making it sound as if she explained something obvious to a toddler. "I am a witch of a pureblooded family and they are nothing but filthy animals. They should be driven off to some zoo for children to come look at so that they realize their place in this world!"

Hermione took a step closer to the short woman, strengthening to her full length and towering over the witch, managing to look frightening in her nightgown with Draco's robe wrapped around her and her hair in disarray, scratches on her legs where they'd walked through thorny bushes. Her anger was like a roaring lion, bearing its teeth and growling, ready to attack and rip the throat of its enemy.

For this, there was no need to pretend.

"You are the most despicable woman I have ever met and the only one truly filthy here is you! The Ministry has truly fallen for them to employ someone like you and I cannot believe they sent you to Hogwarts when all you do is torture the students and poison their minds!"

"Be quiet!" Umbridge hissed, raising her wand in anger, but Hermione barely noticed the impending danger.

"To actually use forbidden means such as a Blood Quill on your own students when they think differently shows that you care nothing for the students' futures – all you want is to turn them into mindless puppets for the Ministry to use. You think yourself so high and mighty but in reality you're so pathetic I can't even bring myself to feel bad for you! You're nothing but a warped, truly sadistic and power-hungry parasite forcing your own twisted believes onto others!"

"I have warned you, Granger, but you leave me with no choice!"

"What are you going to do, huh? Here's a student who won't just take it so what now? Will you torture me into submission to make me obey?"

"_Crucio!_"

Hermione's eyes widened in disbelief and then a body tumbled into her side, sending her sprawling to the ground as a piercing scream filled the air, a tortured sound of unbelievable pain. She twisted around on the ground to see Draco convulsing, his limbs bending in ways that were not supposed to be possible, an agonized scream ripping itself from his throat as his eyes were wide and bulging. Then a big, brown body rushed out from between the trees and collided with the smaller form of Umbridge who gave a high-pitched yelp as she was ploughed to the ground, her wand falling uselessly from her hand and snapping under the heavy hove of a centaur. The spell was broken and Draco's body fell limp, his breast heaving as he panted for breath, sweat glistering on his forehead and dirt filling his hair, silver eyes squeezed shut and his fingers twitching.

"Draco," Hermione breathed breathlessly and crawled over to him to kneel by his side and throw her arms around his shivering frame, holding him close and pressing her cheek against his to hear his breath against her ear. He groaned wearily and she hushed him while pressing him closer still, bringing a hand up to comb through his pale hair.

She wanted to apologize for baiting Umbridge into using the _cruciatus curse_, for being unable to defend herself so that Draco had to throw himself before the curse and suffer the pain meant for her. However, she could tell it would be wrong, understood that it was not an apology Draco wanted right now, and so she settled for the next thing that came to mind.

"Thank you," she mumbled into his hair and squeezed him a bit harder for emphasis.

_Thank you for saving me from having to endure that pain. _

_Thank you for protecting me even though you have no obligation to do so. _

_Thank you for caring. _

"Are the two of you alright?" a deep voice asked from above and Hermione looked up to see a centaur standing close, watching them and holding a pair of wands in one hand.

Behind him, Hermione could see a centaur with the lower body of a muscular brown horse holding Umbridge by the ankle and dragging her off into the bushes and out of sight, her shrieks and protest growing muffled by distance until they fell silent.

"Yes," she answered the centaur before them, letting a wavering smile of relief onto her lips. "At least we will be," she added as a second thought when Draco uttered a weak sound of protest.

"Good, then I presuppose that you will be able to make your way back to Hogwarts without assistance?" the centaur inquired, clearly hoping that they'd say yes and reminding Hermione of that fact that centaurs resented the notion of carrying humans on their backs like horses.

"Yes, I think so," Hermione hastily assured, her brown eyes straying towards the wands held in the centaur's hand. "Are those…?"

The centaur looked down at the wands and then held them out towards Hermione with a slight nod. "They fell out of a pocket, and it seemed fairly likely that they belong to you."

"Yes, they do," Hermione answered, relief and gratitude in her voice as she took the offered wands and returned Draco's to his waiting hand. "And thank you so much for saving us, I know you don't like to get involved with humans so-"

"Your gratitude is accepted," the centaur cut her off in a grave tone. "However, there is no need for you to apologize as what happened here was obviously out of your hands, and we have therefore no need to blame you. On the contrary, we will be glad to take care of a woman of such beliefs who is capable of harming foals of her own kind like that."

Hermione swallowed and nodded, hoping that the centaurs would never find out that their plan from the very beginning had been to be saved by them, even thought torture under the _cruciatus _had not been part of that plan.

A gruff voice sounded from behind the surrounding trees, and even though Hermione couldn't make out any words it had to have said something because the centaur before them nodded towards the voice before turning to them again.

"I will leave you now," he stated as means of farewell, and with that he left them to the thunder of hooves against the soil.

Silence settled over them as they sat still on the cold ground surrounded by bushes, mighty tree trunks and darkness, the crowns of the trees moving slightly overhead and the leaves whispering against each other. Several minutes passed without either of them trying to move as they were both thinking of what had happened, realizing that their plan had worked out in the end and what danger they had put themselves into. The feeling of having a bucket of cold water dumped over your head filled Hermione as she realized how close it had been to going terribly wrong, the feeling mixing with relief that it was over, exhilaration that they had succeeded in getting rid of the toad and a feeling of emptiness as if she wasn't sure of what to do now.

"Help me up?" Draco asked silently and she nodded, putting an arm around him to help him stand and letting her arm stay in place as they slowly started making their way back, retracting their earlier steps towards the castle of Hogwarts.

The sun was peeking over the horizon when they left the last trees behind them and stepped out onto the castle grounds, the rays of sunshine painting the underside of the clouds cluttering the sky in lightsome hues of pink, yellow and orange with darker edges of deep red and purple. A kind of silent agreement made them stop their tired staggering and stay for a moment to watch the display of nature's wonders even though they were exhausted, cold and downright filthy. They stood side by side, appreciating the beauty of life, a life they had been allowed to partake in for some time more before death called for them. Side by side they stood, leaning against each other out of exhaustion and to seek the comfort of closeness, their hands clutched tightly together between them.

"Is that McGonagall?" Draco asked after a moment and Hermione turned her head to look in the direction of his gaze, seeing the form a woman with dark robes, pointy hat and a tartan shawl over her shoulders hurrying towards them.

"I guess we've been found," Hermione answered as they slowly started walking to meet with the woman.

"Oh, dear, you poor children!" McGonagall exclaimed when she reached them, her hat slightly askew on her head. "What has that wretched woman done to you?"

She wasted no time in leading them back to the castle and more specifically to the hospital wing, picking leaved and twigs from them and spelling away dirt as they went. Furious activity that they were both too tired to truly register broke out as soon as they entered the hospital wing, and Hermione immediately found herself pushed onto a bed, her dirty and torn clothes transfigured into a set of the striped infirmary pyjama, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and a cup of hot cocoa in her hands for warmth. In the bed beside hers, Draco was given the same treatment, a rather distant look in his eyes and his body slumped, showing how tired he truly was. Hermione didn't feel any better. The rush of adrenaline had worn off on their walk back through the forest, the blazing fire of anger having died when the centaurs had saved them and she'd realized that they'd made it. At that moment, she'd felt strangely detached even from her own feelings, but that detachment, too, had left her and the cold and exhaustion had announced their presence with a vengeance. Letting her body relax back against the pillows, she yawned hugely and felt her eyelids growing heavy as she sipped from the cup that warmed her hands, the cocoa warming her insides.

Turning her head to the side, she saw Draco huddled up in his blanket, his hair still disorderly and seemingly enjoying the rare moment of freedom from whatever spells normally kept it in check. His grey eyes stared intently into the cocoa as if he expected the answers to all of his questions to reside in the bottom of the cup and then he shifted, blinked and looked up to see Hermione with a small, tired smile on his lips, a smile that must have been infectious because she could feel her own lips curling in an answering, equally tired smile.

Their peaceful moment was interrupted when the doors to the hospital wing opened to admit the headmaster of Hogwarts, dressed in a maroon coloured robe with suns and stars shining in gold embroidery and his blue eyes twinkling behind the half-moon spectacles. A dark form hovered by Dumbledore's shoulder before stepping aside and revealing itself as Snape, the trademark scowl in place as black eyes regarded them, possibly searching for unattended injuries. With the headmaster and their respective heads of houses, the two teens exchanged a look of silent communication, both of them too tired to do anything but sleep yet they knew that they had no choice but to tell them what had happened – or, rather, tell them what they wanted them to think had happened.

"Ah, Mrs Granger, Mr Malfoy, it is a true relief to have the both of you back within the castle walls! I trust Poppy has patched you up?" Dumbledore greeted them merrily, not at all displaying the seriousness and regret that would fit the situation.

"Do try to keep this short, headmaster, the children need all the rest they can get," Madam Pomfrey said sternly, all the while waving her wand over Hermione, healing cuts and sealing scratches efficiently with obvious routine before she went over to Draco.

"Oh," Dumbledore mumbled, looking a bit stumped and suddenly seeming to have lost track of what he had been meaning to say now that he couldn't try to get the information he wanted in the roundabout way he usually utilised.

"We would like an explanation to what has happened, even thought the headmaster seems unable to remember that when without his lemon drops," Snape stated rather coldly, thought he seemed to be slightly amused by the headmaster's temporary speechlessness.

"Yes, you really had us all worried!" McGonagall exclaimed where she stood by Hermione's bed, leaving no doubt as to which student belonged to her. "We did not know what to believe when Dumbledore called us to his office after having been warned by that portrait, and to hear from your respective dorm mates that Umbridge had dragged you out of bed without even letting you dress properly made us truly concerned for your safety."

Hermione smiled slightly, warmed by the fact that the strict transfiguration professor obviously cared for them, and she had to stop herself from chuckling when she saw Snape's dark gaze, his expression making it look as if he wanted to tell McGonagall to speak for herself and not involve him in her sentimentality.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione collected her thoughts to make sure she told them the right things. She wouldn't actually have to lie all that much, just tell them some things and leave some parts out to tweak the truth a bit here and there, but she was still worried that either of them might realize that she wasn't telling the whole truth. Releasing the breath she'd been holding in a whoosh of air, she turned to McGonagall, feeling the strict woman would be the most likely to believe them since she already disliked Umbridge. Of course Snape would have been a choice, but it would have seemed strange for her, a Gryffindor who'd always hated the greasy bat, to suddenly confide in him.

"As you know, Umbridge collected me from my dorm," she began with slight uncertainty to her voice, gaining an encouraging nod from McGonagall to continue. "She led me to her office where Draco was already waiting, and started accusing us of having tried to murder her. She tried to make us confess and threatened to expel us, but there really wasn't anything we could tell her since we had no idea of what she was on about."

"Is that true, Draco?" Snape interrupted, black eyes locked onto the blonde sitting in the bed beside Hermione's, sipping on his hot cocoa. He nodded and lowered the cup before turning to meet the black glare.

"It is as Hermione sais," he answered tiredly, the after-effects of the curse and the happenings of the night taking their toll. Even in spite of that, the lie came smoothly. "I really don't know what made her think that we'd tried to kill her, but she really didn't like it when we didn't _confess_. She started talking about discipline and such and ordered us to walk to the Forbidden Forest. There was nothing we could do but to do as she told us to since she kept her wand pointed at us and had already taken our wands."

"Whatever would she want to do in the Forbidden Forest?" McGonagall asked with a frown.

Hermione hesitated and Draco was quick to cut in in her place.

"I'm not sure, she didn't tell us," he said evenly, turning away from Snape to gaze into his cocoa again.

"She walked us deep into the forest and, well, I've been in the Forbidden Forest before…," Hermione continued, admitting her rule breaking sheepishly and gaining a stern look from McGonagall. "… so I thought I recognized the area we were in and warned Umbridge that there might be centaurs around. She… didn't seem to care. Told us that they, the centaurs, are inferior creatures and so on, so I warned her that they might hear us but she just said more horrid things, and I started arguing back…"

MvGonagall looked as if she didn't know if she should look disapproving, exasperated or proud, and therefore settled for a tired sigh. Snape on the other hand, sneered at the obvious display of Gryffindor characteristics while Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled madly, the story seemingly pleasing him even thought Hermione couldn't figure out why it would.

"What then?" McGonagall asked tiredly.

Hermione hesitated, chewing her bottom lip while glancing at Draco, wondering if they should tell about the _cruciatus_. Telling would most likely benefit them, but then again, it hadn't been in the plan and therefore they hadn't made room for it in their explanation.

"It appears Umbridge lost her patience and with it her last shred of morality," Draco answered, his voice hard and filled with dislike. "She aimed the _cruciatus curse_ at Hermione."

"_What_?" McGonagall exclaimed, clearly shocked by the revelation as Madam Pomfrey raised her wand, ready to get to work on her patient and cure all and any possible lingering discomfort.

"I'm fine!" Hermione shouted, gesturing towards Draco. "He saved me from the unforgivable but got hit by it instead!"

Pomfrey's wand immediately turned to the blonde instead, causing him to sigh heavily over the fussing. He was tired, exhausted, but no after-effects except for the bad memory and nightmare material remained after the curse, and both he and Hermione knew it so surely the matron of the Hospital Wing had to know so as well – this knowledge, however, did not seem to deter her.

"And how, prey tell, did two wandless children escape an experienced witch in possession of her wand?" Snape drawled, his eyes narrowed. Snide comments aside, it was obvious that he cared for the young Malfoy and did not enjoy seeing him harmed.

"The centaurs saved us," Hermione answered. "They'd heard Umbridge insult them, so they took her when she'd cast the unforgivable. Her wand was snapped and then she was dragged further into the forest, thought I don't know where or what they were going to do with her. Then a centaur gave our wands back and made sure we could make it back on our own."

"I do believe we should contact the Ministry, Minerva," Dumbledore intoned, a slight frown upon his wrinkled features, clearly dismayed that one of the unforgivables had been used on one of his students – by one of the professors, none the less. "This is no doubt a matter for the Aurors as I am sure they will like to apprehend Dolores Umbridge as soon as she is found. They are also likely to wish to talk to you of the matter, Mrs Granger and Mr Malfoy, to get your statements of the happenings, but whatever they say I do believe that they can wait for a later time as Poppy has made it clear that you are both in need of rest."

Madam Pomfrey nodded sternly and shooed the professors out of her domain before relieving her charges of their now empty cups and disappearing with them for a moment before returning with two potion vials. Making sure that they were comfortable, she fluffed pillows and tucked them in before giving them a vial each, explaining that they held Dreamless Sleep that would ensure they got their much needed rest without being disturbed. Hermione glanced at Draco, the lid of her vial to her lips, and the blonde toasted her with a tired smile, a toast she returned before they both downed their potion.

The Hospital Wing lay silent around them with its beds, hangings and walls all in white, the morning sun filling the room with an almost golden light. The two teens slept peacefully in their respective beds, slight smiles on their lips. It had been dangerous and it had gone wrong, but in the end, they had made it. They had succeeded.

Together.

**Gah, I've started writing the next chapter, and for some reason, it's fucking hard to write! Shit just doesn't want to appear in black on white! :C Oh, well, I'll just have to continue trying, but be warned: next chapter might end up being _LATE… _:/ **


	37. Chapter 37

**Now I have finally fulfilled my obligation as author and churned out another chapter as that I won't be mugged of my mind, a very real threat I hope THE PROCRASTINATOR won't carry out ;) **

_Dur-dur-dur-drum, dur-dur-dur-drum, dur-dur-dur-durum-_

Harry shifted in the armchair where he was seated, his hair once again blonde and his eyes blue under the glamour of Elijah Spring, yet the sparkle of excitement that seemed to make his eyes glow was entirely authentic. His fingers were drumming rhythmically against a side table – _dur-dur-dur-drum, dur-dur-dur-durum_ – displaying his excitement and nervousness and also serving to annoy the other man in the room who was sitting regally in his armchair with a straight back, one leg resting over the other and arms on the armrests.

"Harry," he said in a low tone of warning.

"Oh yeah, sorry."

Silence settled over the sitting room with windows showing the garden that seemed more and more frozen for every day that passed, a crackling fire in a majestic fireplace and comfortable armchairs with small side tables and a low table between them on which a platter with cups and a steaming teapot and containers with sugar and honey and a little pitcher with milk and a platter of biscuits awaited the arrival of the guests, all of it kept under a stasis charm so that the tea wouldn't cool.

Harry sighed, shifted in the armchair again and tried to count the sugar cubes but quickly realized that he would have to empty them onto the platter to be able to see all of them. He sighed, let his eyes swipe the sunny room, sighed again and started bobbing his leg.

"_Harry_," Tom admonished him, causing the teen to sigh for the third time in a matter of minutes as he stilled his leg. Sitting still as Tom wanted him to do proved to be too hard, however, and it didn't take long until he was out of the armchair and was walking over to the windows to look out over the garden before he paced around the room, dragging his fingers along the walls as he went. It felt as if he had far too much energy for his body to handle, and even now when he was moving it felt as if something wanted to explode from within, making him nervous and high-strung.

A pop announced Minxy's arrival and made Harry swirl around as the houseelf bowed deeply before them, her floppy ears nearly touching the floor.

"Mr. Snape and young master Harry's friends is being arrived, Masters."

"Let them in," Tom ordered smoothly with slight relief in his voice, obviously irritated by Harry's restless behaviour.

A moment later, the double doors to the sitting room opened to admit Snape in his usual black robes and a dark look that made it clear he did not enjoy escorting teenagers while the two teens peeked interestedly around him to look into the room, only one of them trying to hide his curiosity while the other made no attempt whatsoever at behaving refined, brown eyes sweeping the room and taking in the furniture, décor and windows before setting onto the form of Elijah. A smile spread over her lips before being replaced by a minute frown, and Harry sighed as he knew that she was disappointed, probably having expected him to relieve his true identity to Draco. He had thought about it, almost decided to do it, but decided just that morning not to do it, too anxious of what Draco's reaction would be. Seeing how easily he had lost Ronald when changing his identity, he worried that Draco would leave him as well when finding out who he really was, especially when thinking of their history of enmity.

"Ah, Severus," Tom greeted the man, paying no heed to the youths as he rose from his seat and swept across the room with his dark robes billowing behind him, making him look every bit a Dark Lord.

Lord of Darkness of not, the man stopped in the doorway and turned to look at his little vampire, ruby eyes locking with innocently blues.

"Your friends will be returning to Hogwarts with Severus when I am finished with him, making your time together restricted. Use it wisely."

With those few words of advice, Tom turned and left with Snape in tow, making Draco and Hermione scurry out of the way hastily, the blonde Malfoy heir bowing respectfully when the Dark Lord stalked past. Silence settled over the room once the two older wizards had left as Harry watched him two friends uncertainly, suddenly nervous again as he had no idea of what they would say or think. He was standing by the armchair closest to the doors, his hand against the back as blue eyes watched his friends, the two of them barely having stepped over the threshold and watching him in return.

"Aw, you!" Hermione suddenly exclaimed, startling the boys and efficiently snapping the awkwardness as she rushed over to Harry and threw herself at him, her arms around his throat and her head on his shoulder, filling his mouth with bushy, brown hair and forcing him to grip the back of the armchair in order to steady them so that they wouldn't crash to the floor. Her arms squeezed tight and Harry found his breathing restricting, making him raise a hand to pat her back in warning.

"'Mione! 'Mione, can't breathe!" he hissed and she immediately released him to step back, a sheepish smile on her lips and he sucked in deep breaths of wonderful oxygen.

Draco chuckled from the doorway before walking over to them, a smile giving light to his aristocratic features and a glimmer of mirth in his silver eyes.

"Can't defend yourself against a girl, Elijah?" he teased, raising a pale brown in askance.

"Who was it that was punched squarely on the nose some years ago by said girl?" Harry answered with a grin, feeling truly satisfied when he saw blood rush to the pale face in a blush. Remembering their many secret encounters in different hideouts around Hogwarts made Harry swallow forced him to fight back his own blush, thought most of the attraction was gone, scattered by Tom and his delicious blood.

"Who told you that?" Draco demanded, a promise of retribution clear in his voice, and Harry realized his mistake. Turning to Hermione for assistance, he gave her a slightly panicked look, silently asking her for help. The brunet, however, simply raised her brows as if asking him if he really expected her to help him out of this, seeing as she thought he should simply tell the truth. Harry tried to communicate his acute need of help, seeing as this was most certainly _not_ the way he wanted to break it to Draco.

"You told him?"

Harry blinked in surprise and turned to look at the blonde who, in turn, was looking at Hermione with a frown, allowing Harry to breathe a bit more easily as the Slytherin seemed to have mistaken the meaning behind Harry's look.

Hermione sighed, looking slightly disappointed by the fact that Harry's luck had saved him once again, but she didn't say anything. Turning to Draco, she gave him a shrug and a smile that could have been taken as apologetic, making Harry wonder when his friend became so accustomed to walking the line between lying and letting people believe in things that weren't true. Harry watched her in mute surprise, wondering what more could have changed and if Draco might have changed in similar ways.

Talking about change…

"How about telling me what's happened at Hogwarts lately?" Harry asked with a smile as he walked around the armchair to sit in it while gesturing for his friends to do the same, the trio gathering around the table with tea and making themselves comfortable as Harry poured them each a cup and offered biscuits. Considering a cookie but deciding that he didn't feel like eating one, he caught Hermione sharing a glance with Draco, silent communication passing between them and making him curious as to what had happened, his interest intensifying when a smile suddenly bloomed on Hermione's along with a glint in her brown eyes. Harry let his gaze flicker between them, a slight smile playing on his lips as if Hermione's grin was contagious, and when his vividly green orbs met with earthly brown ones he raised his brown is silent inquiry.

"We got rid of the toad!" Hermione exploded, apparently unable to keep it in anymore, and Harry blinked at her in surprise.

"You did _what_?" Harry asked in surprise, completely unprepared for such a statement and just as surprised.

His surprised question, voiced in a tone that might have been a tad bit too high pitched to be entirely manly, was more then enough to make Hermione throw herself into a detailed narration of their plan to get Umbridge suspicious of them to then have the twins set it all off with some newly developed bomb that seemed harmless enough but apparently could cause quite enough chaos. She told him of being woken by a furious Umbridge in the middle of the night and led through the castle in nought but nightgown and slippers, how they'd tricked her into going to the Forbidden Forest with them and how Umbridge had snapped and thrown the cruciatus curse at Hermione, with Draco ending up as the one on the receiving end of the unforgivable, her brown eyes darkening and the cheeriness dulling at the recollection. Harry listened attentively, his eyes wide as he leaned forward in his seat, a little now and then snapping his mouth shut when he realized he'd been gaping while Hermione recited the "explanation" they'd given the headmaster and their respective Heads of Houses.

Later, when they'd both woken up in the Hospital Wing, an Auror had come to take their statements and had explained that Umbridge would be detained as soon as she was found to be brought to justice before the Wizengamont so that the matter could be cleared up. Working under Fudge or not, the cruciatus was called an unforgivable for a reason, and when asked, the Auror had admitted that the matter would be taken to the Minister as well so that the man could explain how he could possibly authorize Umbridge as a professor.

After that, it hadn't taken long before another Auror returned from the Forbidden Forest with a grim look and a steady grip on Umbridge's elbow as he'd guided the woman towards the castle. Hermione described the toad with broken twigs and leaves in her hair, her pink clothes thorn and her skin dirty and bruised. She'd been stumbling unsteadily and mumbling incoherently, but she hadn't appeared to be gravely injured and what the centaurs had done to her remained a matter of speculation as the Aurors had left as quickly as possible to bring the woman to St. Mungos to have a healer see to her condition before she was to be brought to the Ministry for questioning.

According to Hermione, it had been quite hard to get away after that. The teachers, especially the headmaster, had thought it better if the two teens would have stayed in the castle instead of going to Hogsmeade, but they had argued that they needed the visit to the village as a distraction, and the teachers had relented. Once in Hogsmeade, they had been practically ambushed by the other students who all wanted to buy them a buttlebear at the Three Broomsticks or give them some candy from Honeydukes to get to hear the story of how they got rid of the toad.

"Everyone is completely sure that we are the ones behind it, even thought we haven't told anyone anything but what we told the teachers!" Hermione finished, her face slight flushed and her eyes wide and bright.

Harry stared back at her, his eyes wide and disbelieving as he was unsure of how to react. Should he be happy, congratulate them and celebrate? Probably, but it didn't feel right. It was so different, such a big change from how things used to be that he couldn't seem to wrap his mind about it. Hermione had changed. The bushy-haired girl he'd know would never have gone against a teacher in such a way, would never have plotted or agreed with a plan as underhanded and Slytherin as the one she'd just told him about. It wasn't honest, it wasn't Gryffindor – it wasn't Hermione. Or hadn't been, rather, because now, it seemed to be.

"I do expect some kind of reaction," Hermione said with a slight smile and awoke him from his thoughts, brown eyes searching his face.

"Sorry," he mumbled with a sheepish smile, glancing at the silent Draco who sipped his tea before turning back to Hermione. "I just didn't expect you to…" he trailed off with a shrug.

"You're a vampire living with You-Know-Who, and you're surprised by what _we_ do?" Hermione asked with a brow raised in disbelief, making Harry shrug again.

Even if he didn't want to admit it, she did have a point, and he also thought he could detect an underlying meaning behind her words: if he compared his own change with the change Hermione had gone through, then the bushy-haired girl had barely changed at all.

"I guess you haven't changed all that much when compared to me," he admitted with a apologetic smile.

"Unless you have changed from being the saviour of the Light to being the Dark Lord himself, I really can't see how you would have changed more since it is an unbelievable change for a Gryffindor to go from foolhardy honesty to scheming with a Slytherin such as myself," Draco joked dryly, causing Harry to tense in his seat as Draco was too close to the truth for the vampire's comfort.

"Well, I'm not the Dark Lord," he pointed out nervously, making Draco frown slightly, obviously wondering what he had said that made Harry so worried.

Thankfully, Hermione decided to save him this time.

"I didn't come here solely to tell you that we have gotten rid of Umbridge – how have _you_ been?" Hermione asked softly and Harry gave her a relieved.

"Good, just good," he answered with a smile. "Tom's been teaching me wandless magic, and I've gotten a new wand since my old one was snapped," he told them, feeling a slight tug at his heart at the reminder of his old wand and his fingers reflexively closed around the handle of his new wand.

He quickly scrambled for something else to tell them, and said the first time that came to mind: "I've also gotten to know Tom better!"

It wasn't until the words had left him that he realized what he had said, and even thought the wording was innocent enough, it made him blush since he knew the _real _meaning behind them. _Getting to know him better_ sure was a nice way of putting it.

"So… you feed from him now?" Draco asked slowly, shifting awkwardly in his seat, and Harry felt his blush intensify.

"Yeah…" he mumbled, trailing off.

An awkward silence settled over the group as Draco tried to look anywhere but at the blushing Harry while Hermione seemed to try to come up with something to say to break the silence, but instead ended up looking much like a gaping fish out of water as she repeatedly opened and closed her mouth. Before she had a chance to succeed, however, Harry caught the sound of approaching footsteps and turned towards the doors thought which Tom and Snape stepped a few minutes later, signalling that their time together had come to an end.

The three friends said their good-byes rather quietly as the silence between Harry and Draco remained awkward, thought nothing could stop Hermione from practically strangling Harry in one of her hugs, not even the presence of the Dark Lord deterring her efforts of squeezing the life out of him. After promises and assurances of meeting soon again, his two friends were gone with the billow of Snape's black cape, leaving Harry to feel oddly empty. He was happy to have gotten to see his friends again and hoped that they could meet again sooner rather then later, but there was still something that felt wrong…

Guilt, Harry recognized after a while – guilt was what he felt, and once that was sorted out it didn't take a genius to realize that he felt guilty because he continued lying to Draco even now that they had become close friends – or perhaps _especially_ since they had become close friends, as Harry did not wish to lose a second dear friend in a matter of months. That, however, did not seem to be the only reason for his guilt as it felt as if he had abandoned Draco, simple walked away and left him behind, dumped him. Of course he knew that that wasn't the case, seeing as he hadn't walked away willingly but rather had been imprisoned in Azkaban, unable to do anything about the situation and certainly not in any position to demand the right to give Draco a proper farewell. Still, it felt as if he had wronged Draco somehow, as if he was cheating on him, leaving an old lover behind when he was no longer interesting enough to run off with a new man – a new man who just happened to be Tom Riddle, the most feared wizard of their time, and it wasn't as much running away with a lover as taking the blood that was offered to survive and stay sane.

Sighing, Harry decided he would have to talk to Draco, _properly_, when the first opportunity presented itself.

Such an opportunity would prove to be hard to come by, however.

XXX

Hermione, as the brilliant young witch she was, sent a letter only days later, claiming in vague but obviously enthusiastic wording that she could get in and out of Hogwarts without problem and, consequentially, could come see him already the next weekend if only there was someone who could pick her up in Hogsmeade to take her to the Manor. Her ingenious plan proved to be quite simplistic when she was apparated to the Manor by a sullen Death Eater who was obviously not very highly regarded by Tom, as she told him that she'd simply sneaked out through the hidden passageway behind the statue of the one-eyed witch that lead to the Honeydukes' cellar, and from there had sneaked out to meet the Death Eater where Snape had taken them to apparate last time. Since it was the weekend and she wasn't required for any classes, meetings or detentions, it was unlikely that anyone would notice her absence if she stayed for a short time, and she promptly asked Harry if they had a library available as she opened her shoulder bag and revealed that she'd brought all the schoolwork that Harry had missed. His look of horror must have been priceless and it made the previously dismayed Dark Lord chuckle at his misfortune.

Tom wasn't overly happy about having a mudblood turning up at the Mansion regularly to claim time with his little vampire, but the revelation that Hermione would have him study seemed to placate the man somewhat, making Harry bite back his protests and obediently lead Hermione to Tom's office with its fireplace, plush armchairs and many bookcases. The young witch had been delighted to suddenly had easy access to such old and rare books, even if the contents of many of them were doubtlessly on the dark side of magic, and Harry eagerly told his friend about the books Tom had him read and the spells he practised, seeing an opportunity to escape from having to study.

His plan worked for all of fifteen hopeful minutes before Hermione directed him to read through her notes from the transfiguration classes he had missed, and he watched with dread as the scroll she'd copied her notes onto unrolled itself across the floor, no doubt long enough to reach across the office, from corner to corner. Hermione made herself comfortable in the armchair across from him with a dangerously swaying pile of books by her side and watched him expectantly, leaving him with no choice but to suffer in silence with the small, neat scrawl of Hermione's.

Silence settled over the room, only broken by the occasional crackle of the fire and the light rustle of parchment as Hermione turned a page or Harry moved along the monstrously long scroll of notes. Their studying went by without interruption for about half an hour before Harry caved, needing to ask what he'd been wondering since Hermione met him in the entrance hall with only the Death Eater as company.

"Hermione?"

"Hm?" Brown eyes glanced up over the cover of the heavy tomb she was engrossed in, her bushy hair pushed back behind her ears to stay out of the way.

"Did- Was there any particular reason for- Do you know why… why Draco didn't come today?" he asked nervously, dreading the answer. What if his lies and secrecy had already pushed away the blonde? What if Draco no longer saw them as friends and never wanted to talk to him again, let alone see him?

"Oh, Harry," Hermione sighed, her brown eyes softening and showing how much she cared. "Draco is, well… He has a lot to think about and come to terms with, and since things would no doubt be awkward between the two of you, he opted for staying in the castle today."

"What's he thinking about?" Harry asked, suspecting that he might already know the answer.

Closing the book with a bit of parchment between the pages as a bookmark, Hermione turned to him with the look of someone gathering patience and preparing herself for a long explanation of something that should have been more or less obvious.

"The two of you were… _intimate_ before you were taken to Azkaban, weren't you?" Hermione asked gently but didn't seem to need an answer as Harry didn't even have time to start blushing before she continued. "You were close friends and, depending on how you saw it, perhaps more then friends. Then you're suddenly dragged off to prison to be saved after a few days, and then it was as if you'd fallen off the face of the earth – we were both very worried about you, but there was nothing we could do but wait even thought we knew nothing of your condition. I cannot say this for sure, it is but a guess on my part, but perhaps Draco assumed things would go back to the way it had been when you'd regained your health? If so, then it must have been quite a shock for him to learn that you now feed of Tom and that you are intimate with him instead. I can imagine it would feel a lot like being ditched."

Harry groaned and hid his face in his hands, rubbing it rather harshly as he tried to vent the frustration and slight hopelessness that wanted to set its claws in him.

"I've got no idea of what to do to change that, Hermione," he admitted tiredly. "How do I, I don't know – make it up to him?"

"Well, giving him some time to think it through might be a start, so perhaps it is a good thing that he didn't come along today," she suggested. "I do think he understands, though, since he knows that vampires need blood and that Tom's blood is no doubt better then his own since the difference in power between them is immense, but you'll still have to talk to him."

"And what do I say? What am I supposed to tell him?"

"The truth, of course. All of it."

XXX

Two weeks had passed since Draco had been to his Lord's mansion, two weeks since he had seen his friend Elijah. Hermione had already been there twice without him and made no move to hide what she thought of his avoidance when she'd stared at him from across the Great Hall at dinned that evening after having returned from her trip to the Mansion. Earlier that day, when she'd asked if he would come with her to see Elijah, he'd told her that he had prefect duties that got in the way, and it hadn't been a lie – though, if he had truly wanted to, he would have been able to get away from it to come with her. Truth was that he just wasn't sure of what to say to Elijah, how to behave around him.

He readily admitted that he had never harboured any romantic feelings for Elijah but more of an interest, the feeling of curiosity that accompanied laying a puzzle and waiting to get to see what the picture would be – because that was what Elijah had been, a puzzle, a mystery for him to solve, thought admittedly one with sexual aspects involved for which he blamed their shared teenage hormones. He had known that they were feelings that wouldn't last, that it was a passing attraction of his and that it would never be allowed to be anything else even if he had wished it to since they were both males and his father expected him to produce a heir. Still, when Elijah had been taken to Azkaban it had felt as if he had been ripped from him, taken from him without right, and when he finally got to see him again it was only to realize that Elijah had moved on – to their Lord, nonetheless. Merlin, he would never be able to think of Lord Voldemort the same again.

There were no hard feelings involved over the matter, however, since he knew from the very beginning that their relationship, if it could be called that, had been based solely on Elijah's need for blood and teenage hormones, both of whish Draco had used to his advantage. Being a Malfoy, he always got what he wanted one way or another. Thinking that Elijah would ever return to him, however, would be nothing but foolish since blood had played a central role and their Lord's blood was undoubtedly much more potent then Draco could ever hope that his own blood would be.

Even thought he made it sound as if he had it all sorted out, he really didn't know how to act now, how to behave around Elijah. Would they just return to being friends? Could they?

Hopefully, thought not certainly.

And most surely not right now when Draco's feelings had decided to move on without him, rudely ignoring the fact that he was just about to figure out what he felt for Elijah and barging on. These new feelings must have awoken after Elijah had been taken away, and from then on they had grown stronger, sneaked up on him while he was completely unaware of them and made a secure fortress inside him from which they had ambushed him that night in Umbridge's office. Seeing Hermione standing there, dressed in nothing but slippers and a nightgown with frizzled hair and an endearingly flushed face allowed the feelings to attack him with unrivalled force.

She was so different from Elijah, in every possible way, and not only when seeing to personality. Her body was soft and female, with breasts moving as she breathed and slim legs prickled with goose-bumps while Elijah's body had been hard and strong and very much male. The feelings she awoke were equally different, warmer and softer, more gentle in nature yet somewhat stronger. And while his feelings for Elijah had been passing in nature, his feelings for Hermione-

His head hit the tabletop with a thunk that rattled the chess pieces of the game Blaise and Teo were playing, the miniature figures in black and white glaring at him as they trudged back to their respective squares. Pansy, having been completely absorbed by the latest issue of Witch Weekly while her newly painted nails dried, almost dropped the magazine as she was startled by the sudden sound.

"Draco, please don't," she chastised him lightly. "You'll bruise your handsome face if you do that."

The only response she was given was a tired groan, making her roll her eyes before she gripped the magazine anew and returned to her reading with a shrug, leaving him to his misery.

His feelings for Hermione did not feel as if they would simply cease after a short amount of time – it felt as if they were long-lasting and would pester him until he fully acknowledged them and did something about… the situation. Acknowledging the feelings wouldn't solve anything, however, for if his relationship with Elijah had been unacceptable because they were both males, then the mere thought of having any kind of intimate relationship with Hermione, a muggleborn, must be positively illicit, perhaps to be punished by death. Elijah did at least have his ranking among the Death Eaters and close relationship to their Lord – what mitigating circumstances did Hermione have?

_Father is going to kill me,_ he thought wearily, sighing deeply to express his misery.

"Okay, that's it!" Pansy exclaimed, slapping her magazine onto the table and turning to Draco who looked up at her with raised brows. "Talk to me!" she demanded, and Draco snorted in reply.

"Are you going to solve my troubles for me now, Pansy?" he asked skeptically.

"Um, Mr. Malfoy?"

The two fifth-years turned to the second year student who looked as if he was intruding in their private chambers and not standing by the table they occupied in the Slytherin common room. A majestic owl that Draco vaguely recognized as the owl that had carried letters to Elijah a couple of times perched on the younger Slytherins's shoulder, a envelope held in its strong beak. The yellow eyes locked onto Draco and the owl left the boy's shoulder in favor of landing on the table in front of Draco, tipping Pansy's nail-polish over and spilling the pink varnish onto the table, making Pansy hiss indignantly as she flicked her wand to salvage the table and her nail varnish. The owl ignored her haughtily while waiting for Draco to take the envelope, and the blonde complied obediently.

"It refused to leave me alone, and since it was your name on it, Mr. Malfoy, I figured that, well…" the second-year trailed off, clearly nervous and embarrassed as he fiddled with a seam on his robes.

"Thank you for your help," Draco answered lightly and gave the boy a most charming smile before turning his full attention to the envelope, his full name neatly written on the parchment just as the boy had said. Opening it, he found a simple card of parchment inside, folded in half – unfolding it, he found one single word written in the middle, penned out with a familiar hand in black ink.

_Friends?_

**Gah, this chapter was hard to write - feels like I say that on most chapters recently, though =,=' We're getting closer to the end, so maybe I'm reluctant to finish it? Oh well, we have some relationships and secrets to sort out before that :)**


	38. Chapter 38

**Thank you, FoodForThought, for your many great ideas! I don't know if any of it will happen, but it might! :)**

The mansion where the Dark Lord resided was truly magnificent, something Draco would have readily admitted if only he had noticed it. As it was, his entire focus was divided between the girl walking by his side with her heavy shoulder bag bumping against her hip as she made her way through the halls and corridors unhindered and without hesitation and the person waiting for them at their destination. He was nervous, more so then he'd thought he would be as he'd thought he would know how to relate to Elijah now that they had established their continued friendship through Elijah's single-worded request and Draco's just as short confirmative. Still, there was so much he wanted to ask, so much he had to know, yet he had no idea of what to say when face to face with the vampire.

The bushy-haired girl leading the way seemed oblivious to his problems, a smile on her lips and her brown eyes alight with excitement, most likely at the prospect of coming in contact with all the books she had told him about when they'd made their way through the secret tunnel that had allowed them to leave the castle undetected. Draco had, of course, warned his friends that he would be away for a while so that they would not start looking for him and raise the alarm when unable to find him, but he had not told them what they were going to do, neither had they asked.

"Here we are!" Hermione happily stated by his side, rapped her knuckles against the wooden door they had stopped by to then open it without waiting for an answer. Draco stared at her, horrified that she could open a door so rudely without awaiting an answer, and he found himself questioning just how comfortable and at home the muggleborn by his side felt here in the Dark Lord's mansion. What if their Lord was behind that door and did not wish to be disturbed? The thought alone was enough to make cold dread spread through him, leaving a trail of ice along his spine as he slowly turned his attention from the bushy-hired girl to look through the door into the room.

It was an office, its walls covered with bookcases filled with old, rare books, heavy tombs in leather binding and brittle scrolls of parchment filling the shelves. A grand desk stood in front of the windows and Draco could all too easily picture the Lord witting behind the desk, his bloodied gaze raising to stare at them, shortly followed by the _cruciatus_ from the yew wand. Luckily, the seat behind the desk was vacated and the room lacked the presence of the Dark Lord.

A crackling fire warmed the room and battled the cold weather of November that reigned over the outside world, coating the ground with layers of frost and turning their breath into fog in the mornings. Before the fireplace stood a couple of armchairs, one of them inhabited by a familiar blond clad in black robes, his blue eyes turning to them and practically shining in delight when finding Draco standing there in the doorway. An answering smile spread over the pureblooded teen's lips and he took a step forward to greet his friend when a light hiss drew his gaze to Elijah's lap where the great snake that was their Lord's familiar rested contently, the young vampire's hands stroking her scaled coils lazily.

He froze in the doorway, one foot in the room and the other in the corridor, his hand on the doorframe and his grey eyes widening as his smile melted away, his face loosing all colour. Slytherin or not, the Dark Lord's familiar had always scared him, perhaps even more so then the Lord himself since you could judge his mood and mentally prepare yourself for the worst whenever he was about to fire off a _cruciatus_. The snake, however, one did not judge, making it impossible to foresee if she was going to eat you, squeeze you to death or just flicker that forked tongue at you. Not knowing made him tense, and he watched frightfully as the snake's head rose to flicker it's tongue against Elijah's jaw, poising those venomous teeth much to close to his friend's throat for his liking.

"Don't worry, Draco," Elijah said softly, a reassuring smile on his lips. "She isn't about to eat you or anything, she just thinks you smell good."

"How would you know?" Draco questioned tensely. "It's not like you're a parselmouth."

A heavy silence settled over the room and blue eyes strayed from his silver gaze to move a bit to the side, making Draco turn to see Hermione return the gaze, silent communication passing between them. The brown, earthly gaze seemed to be scolding, encouraging and reassuring all at the same time, and Draco frowned at the realization that the two of them shared a secret that he had not been made privy of.

"_Are _you a parselmouth?" he asked, his tone demanding an answer.

Elijah took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a moment before opening them and looking Draco in the eye. Tipping his head forward and raising it again without loosing eye contact, Elijah nodded.

"How can that be? I thought Potter and our Lord were the only living parselmouths left," Draco demanded to know, his gaze moving from the nervous Elijah to the unnaturally still Hermione and back again.

"Elijah?" he prompted, causing the other blonde to swallow before taking a few, deep breaths as if to collect himself.

"That is true," he agreed quietly, blue eyes meeting with silver, calm on the surface but underneath swirling with uncertainty and a silent plead for understanding. How he was supposed to understand when he didn't even know what Elijah wished for him to understand was a mystery to Draco.

The his pale brows furrowed in thought as he realized the implications of the statement, clarifying that the only living parselmouths were the Dark Lord and Harry Potter while Elijah was a parselmouth as well. Or perhaps not _as well _but rather… Of course it would be possible with the polyjuice potion or a potent glamour, but it was still not possible because Draco had seen Elijah and the Dark Lord at the same time and Elijah would, therefore, have to be the disguised Harry Potter, but for the Gryffindor golden boy and faithful Dumbledore loyalist to have disguised himself in order to join the ranks of the Dark Lord…

"It's not possible," he breathed, his eyes wide and face pale. "You… _you_… you _can't _be…"

Elijah rose hastily from the armchair, causing Nagini to drop to the floor with an indignant hiss, yet the vampire ignored her as he stalked over to Draco hurriedly, almost as if afraid that the Malfoy heir would flee. He didn't stop until they stood but an arm length from each other, the calm completely gone from his blues, overtaken by a desperate hope.

"I'm sorry, so sorry," he mumbled and there was no doubting his sincerity as his voice was laced with guilt. "I've wanted to tell you, I really did, but I was so afraid of how you would react. I thought that maybe you might reject me, just like…" He cut himself off and shook his head, a few hard twitches back and forth before he locked eyes with Draco again, took a deep breath and continued his rambling. There was nothing Draco could do but listen apprehensively, dreading the confirmation of his thoughts that he expected was about to tumble disorderly from his friend's lips.

"I know I shouldn't have lied, but at that time it was necessary, and when it was no longer essential, well, then I was already afraid of loosing you. You really are a dear friend to me, Draco, and I wish to stay your friend," he said rather forcefully, seemingly gathering his courage.

"I really don't know how to say this but…" Elijah mumbled, the glanced and Hermione and gave a slight nod, making Draco wonder whatever the bushy-haired girl had communicated to him.

Straightening, Elijah took a deep breath and took his wand in a steady grip, reached up and tapped it atop his head. Black colour seemed to bleed from the tip of the wand, spreading over the blonde hair like a blotch of ink, the hair seemingly retracting and shortening to a messy nest of inky black. His face changed, small changes to the jaw and nose and the form of his eyes, eyes that changed from a dull, anxious blue to vibrant greens that portrayed just as much worry. His form transformed, thinning slightly and shrinking a little bit as a famous scar with the design of a lightning bolt appeared on his forehead.

_Of course_, Draco's mind supplied treacherously. _It all adds up_. And it did. The fact that Elijah had known his way around Hogwarts from the very beginning wasn't because he had been briefed on the castle's layout by the Dark Lord, but because he had already walked those halls for four years as a student under another name. His knowledge corresponding so well with what they had studied during previous years had the same explanation, just like his familiarity with the teachers and students at the school. The rather un-Slytherin characteristics that sometimes surfaced had been caused by living as a Gryffindor, and that was also the reason to why he had such a Gryffindor view of Purebloods and muggleborns.

Elijah hadn't bonded with Hermione and become friends with her during their shared classes of Ancient Runes – he had been her friend all along. He had, however, become friends with him, Draco Malfoy, his rival and enemy for all of four years. He had been sorted into Slytherin instead of Gryffindor, he had been turned into a vampire and he had joined the Dark Lord who no doubt knew of all this.

Harry Potter slowly lowered his wand, his green eyes flickering between Draco's silver ones as he swallowed nervously under the wide-eyed stare. However hard Draco stared, however hard he tried, he could not fit the Harry Potter he knew into the Elijah Spring he had come to know. It was, as he had already voiced, simply not possible.

"Draco?"

"You are incompatible," Draco stated. "For Harry Potter to become Elijah Spring, a Slytherin, a vampire and a follower of the Dark Lord…"

The Malfoy heir shook his head of pale hair, bodily expressing the impossibility of such a thing ever happening. While it would explain many of the things that had made Elijah into a mystery, it was simply too unlikely to be true.

The vampire grimaced but nodded, seemingly understanding the point that Draco was making. He sighed and reached up, scratching his neck in an awkward gesture that was so typical for Harry Potter that there simply could be no doubt as to who he was.

"Well, a lot happened," he mumbled, green eyes becoming a bit unfocussed as he thought back to the past before he turned his full attention onto Draco again, the look in the Malfoy heir's demanding answers and explanations.

"Okay, so… it all began during the summer," Harry told him, walked over the armchairs by the fire and gestured for Draco to follow so that they could both make themselves comfortable. Hermione drifted over to the bookcases, fingers trailing over the spines of the old books as she listened with half an ear, already having heard the story once.

"I was out with my cousin during the evening when a vampire attacked us…" Harry began, his green eyes gazing into the dancing flames of the fire as he narrated his story, telling Draco about the vampire attack, the death of his cousin and his uncle bringing him to the brink of death before the wild magic of the newly turned vampire saw it fit to kill the muggle. He told of escaping after having woken up, hiding in the park and being found by Death Eaters. Meeting their Lord again when it had only been months since Harry had witnessed Voldemort's resurrection only to pass out and wake up at the Mansion. He didn't leave any details out whatsoever, didn't hide any facts and told no half-truths as he described his time at the Mansion and the subsequent time at Hogwarts. Harry described how it had been, trying to hide who he was and how Hermione had slowly but surely revealed one truth after another, the reoccurring fights with Weasley, his former best friend, and how he'd battled the nightmares and blood thirst, and how Draco had rescued him from both. Draco listened intently to Harry's recollection of the fight with his sire, the few but horrifying days in the madness and darkness that was Azkaban, to then be saved and brought back to the Mansion.

When Harry was finished and silence settled over the room, Draco could only stare at him. The blonde wanted to be angry, to rage and curse and hex, but he couldn't. Something slight and restless flickered weakly in him before dying and he strongly suspected that that was the anger he wanted to feel, but he understood Harry far too well to be able to be angry with him. Keeping his identity had, at least in the beginning, been an unquestionable necessity, and after Hermione had found out and he could have told Draco, his fear of loosing a friend stopped him. He, Draco, would probably have done the same, or at least acted in a similar way, and even thought such a realization wasn't enough to buffer his anger, it was more then enough when combined with the sincerity in Harry's eyes and the fact that the first flood of anger had dissipated when Draco had quietly listened.

Groaning wearily, he leaned back in the armchair, letting his head fall back against the high back of the furniture and pushed a hand through his blonde hair, for a rare moment not caring if he caused disorder among his pale strands.

"I want to be angry at you for not telling me," he sighed, his tone resigned.

"You… _want to _be angry at me?" Harry asked quietly, his voice full of wonder and hope, the same emotions reflecting in the brightness of his eyes.

"Yeah," he answered with a slight nod. "Though the effort to summon up the anger would be too great to be worth it," he added.

An enormous smile blossomed on Harry's lips, his eyes impossibly bright and his face full of relief and joy. Draco observed with surprise that his simple words had been the cause to all those strong emotions, and he couldn't stop a smile from spreading over his own features as he realized how much their friendship must mean to Harry.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Hermione sitting behind the grand desk, a heavy tomb opened in front of her and a quill poised over parchment, ready to take notes. The sun coming from the window behind her cast her features in shadow, but he could swear that she wore that all-knowing, rather superior smile, as if she thought they were silly and had known all along that this was how it would end.

Realizing that his behaviour must be completely unbefitting of a Malfoy, DM cleared his throat and sat up straight, trying to regain some of his superior aura.

"I must admit that it is beyond me how someone so clearly Gryffindor could be sorted into Slytherin," he confessed, and Harry smiled brightly at him, a smile that promised uncountable stories of still unknown content.

XXX

The first of December had come and went, bringing with it a light powder of snow that left smudges of white on the ground, the sun threatening to melt it if only the globe of light and warmth would peek out from behind the seemingly endless cover of clouds that hid the sky from view. A low grumbling made Hermione look up to see her two friends sitting in the armchairs by the fire, an ongoing game of chess between them as Draco tied to teach Harry how to play without loosing horribly – with questionable results, if Harry's disgruntled grumbling was anything to go by. A smile curved her lips and she shook her head amusedly as she bent down over the heavy tomb that rested on the desk before her, brown eyes moving rapidly over the parchment that was brittle and yellowed with age, the ink having paled from its original stark black to a fading grey. The old volume was bound in dark leather with its title spelled out in golden letter on the front cover, a vague title that only distantly hinted to the true content of the book.

Dark Arts.

Hermione sucked in a harsh breath and blew it out through her nose, her heart jumping a beat at the forbidden words even thought they hadn't even been uttered out loud. She'd kept her reading material secret from the others, hiding the titles of the books by pressing them to her chest, putting parchment over them and making sure they lay flat against the desktop as she read. Why it was so important to keep it a secret, she didn't know. She held no doubt that the two boys playing chess before her would accept her newly found interest without too much trouble, especially when thinking if who they both were or, in Harry's case, had become. Still, she wanted it to be a secret, perhaps because she wasn't quite ready to truly acknowledge the fact that she seemed to be drifting from the light, perhaps simply because it was her secret and she wanted to keep it to herself.

Whichever it was, she readily indulged her impulse to keep the secret, finding it oddly fitting that she was secretly studying the Dark Arts – her heart jumped a beat again and her breathing quickened a bit – while seated by Voldemort's desk, her weight comfortably upheld by the Dark Lord's very own chair in which he had most likely been sitting himself. The thought chased a thrill of excitement down her spine and a smile tugged at the corners of her lips, her brown eyes shining.

Harry let out a whoop of joy, apparently having taken one of Draco's pawns, making the blond point out that it was his first lost piece while half of Harry's black pieces lay scattered. Hermione didn't even look up, busy with her own thoughts.

Two weeks had passed since Harry and Draco had made up, and Hermione had taken the chance to study the rare books that Voldemort's library held to learn about Dark Arts during their subsequent meetings. She had ploughed through several books on the subject, searching for the answer to her single question but unable to find a good one spelled out onto parchment. The question twirled and circled and danced around in her head, poking the inside of her skull whenever she was about to forget it, nearly driving her mad with its refusal to go away.

_Why do so many seem to regard the Dark Arts as a threat? _

She had to admit to herself that she, as well, had thought Dark Arts to be something bad, something evil, the mere name giving the particular branch of magic a negative ring. The more she read, however, the more certain she became that she was entirely wrong as Dark Arts did not at all seem to be a brand of magic separated from so called "light" magic. According to the books, magic was just magic, whatever you called it, and there was no dark or light, good or bad about it. The brand of "Dark Magic" seemed to have been created by the Ministry when they found certain strong spells to be too dangerous as they were harder to ward against then most spells and curses, but there was nothing indicating that there would be something particularly _wrong_ with the magic of the spell itself. All that mattered was what you did with it, Hermione concluded, as she had found quite a few spells mentioned in the books that could, admittedly, be used for accomplish great evil, but also to do great good. To ban such magic simply because it was effective seemed unbelievable naïve, and even that reasoning seemed to have been lost with time as people these days superstitiously believed Dark Magic to be _evil. _It was clearly a case of lacking information and education on the matter, the effect further amplified when all Dark Magic was estranged and shrouded in dark shadows of mystery. Prejudice seemed to be the cause of this matter as for so much else that was wrong in their society, Hermione realized. Prejudice against all that could be seen as "Dark", which oftentimes spread to prejudice against magical creatures. It was sad, really, and clearly needed to be changed. The question was _how_ that change was to be achieved.

Brown eyes rose from parchment to gaze at her two friends, thoughts racing through her mind as she unconsciously worried her bottom lip. The most appealing way of bringing about change was to study law and start working through channels of legislation and make legislative proposals to change the system from the inside by fully approved means. While it appealed to her Gryffindor honesty, she realized how impractical it would be as she surely would meat great resistance from within the Ministry, perhaps most surely from the Wizengamot itself, and changing anything would consequently be almost impossible. Not to mention her status as a muggleborn, something she preferred not to think about, enabling her to bullheadedly disregard all disadvantaged that her heritage gave her. Under these circumstances, however, it would most surely deprive her of the status and influence she would have needed to be able to achieve change. Her Gryffindor within wanted to throw itself at the challenge, but her intellect told her that there must, surely, be some other way that was more efficient and far easier.

Of course, she could try to gather others willing to support her cause, but she doubted that many would have any interest in engaging themselves in some small movement when all of wizarding Britain was engaged in war, holding its breath and awaiting the next move to see what either Voldemort, Dumbledore or the Ministry would do. It was more likely that they would see to the Ministry with hope and dependence, expecting their authorities to provide protection, then start criticizing them for some problem that they had all lived with and seen past for decades. To attempt such a thing seemed like a complete waste of time altogether, meaning she would have to join with some established force that was already a natural part of people's life. Sadly, none of the three great powers, namely Dumbledore and the Order, the Ministry and Voldemort, would ever work alongside her for quite obvious reasons: Dumbledore because he was undoubtedly one of the _light _wizards who were prejudiced against the "Dark Magic" that the whole question of prejudice revolved around; the Ministry because of the same reasons applying to trying to change it through legal ways as it would largely be the same situation in the end; and Voldemort…

Hermione sighed. However unwilling she was to admit it, the Dark Lord actually seemed to be her best option out of the three if she wanted to change anything since he was already working for change, thought obviously not of the same kind that she wished for. Still, a cooperation with him and his forces would be impossible since she would never be accepted due to her status as a muggleborn and she would never condone of the violence and torture they used in their extreme discrimination. Yet the Dark Lord that Harry called _Tom _seemed different from what she'd learnt throughout her time in the magical world; he seemed to be able to change, to listen and to grow more tolerant – her own presence at the Dark Lord's Mansion was obviously proof of that. Perhaps, it she just got to talk to him…

She shook her head sharply at the inane idea, resisting the urge to snort since it would draw attention to herself and her inner thoughts.

The fact that the man was able to tolerate her presence in the Mansion was no doubt dependent on Harry's wish for her to be here, and _tolerance_ was in no way an equivalent to _acceptance_, proven by that fact that Voldemort shone with his constant absence during the time when the three friends met. The only time she had actually seen the man had been when they'd met for the first time, and that was only shortly as the Dark Lord obviously tried to minimize the time in their vicinity.

_No, that's not going to work_, she thought as she sighed again, casting a quick tempus and closing the book to put it away when she realized that it was due time to return to Hogwarts so that they would not attract attention by missing dinner.

XXX

The flutter of wings drowned out all other sound as the owls entered through the high windows during breakfast the next morning, the students seated along their respective tables craning their necks to look up, searching with their gazes for familiar owls and post that could be for them. Many of the owls had an official look to them and a pouch at the leg for money as they carried the day's issue of the Prophet, the majority of the breakfast-eaters receiving and paying for a copy, the rest looking to their friends to read over a shoulder.

Hermione, of course, was among those paying an owl for the paper, knowing the value of being updated on what happened in society even if the Prophet had been little more then a forum for slandering Harry lately. Brown eyes scanned the first page disinterestedly while she nibbled on a toast, but her gaze soon sharpened into focus, seeing the large picture of Fudge standing in the Atrium at the Ministry, holding his hands held up and waving them in a placating gesture, his bowler hat slightly to the side, a harried expression on his features. Along with the headline written in big, bold lettering, the picture covered the whole first page.

**FUDGE PERMITS TORTURE AT HOGWARTS **

The toast fell from slack fingers but Hermione didn't notice as she threw herself over the paper, flipping the page so fast she nearly tore it, her gaze flying over the text as she read the article. The contents started where Umbridge had been brought in by Aurors, continuing with the discovery that the Ministry-appointed professor had used an illegal Blood Quill that was commonly seen as an instrument for torture, and that the Aurors, with a bit of questioning, had found out that it had all been approved by Fudge himself. A vote of no confidence had come from the Wizengamot without delay, and Fudge was only to remain in office to handle the most basic functions of his position to keep the Ministry going until a successor had been appointed. Elections were to be held after Christmas, on the first of January, giving the candidates about three weeks to make themselves noticed by the wizarding population of Britain.

Having picked up on the essential information, she flipped through the rest of the issue, realizing that almost all of it had been dedicated to the new political development, except for a few small articles crammed onto the last page. There was a short article telling how Umbridge had grown paranoid because the students didn't like her and lashed out at two students, taking them to the Forbidden Forest and even holding one of the under the _cruciatus_, the story posing as background to how Umbridge had come to be arrested. The students had been left anonymous, but Hermione was sure that every student within the halls of Hogwarts knew who they were. What disappointed her was that there was no mention of them having been saved by centaurs, the article fleeting when it came to their so called "escape", no doubt caused by the prejudice against magical creatures. There were also interviews with parents expressing their worries about their children's security while at Hogwarts, an article accounting for the recent history they'd had with Defence teachers and how they'd all turned out to last for only a year, some expert discussing how the hiring of teachers should be regulated and so on.

Looking up and across the Great Hall, past all the students discussing the contents of the Prophet, she found silver eyes turning from Teo to look at her. A smile spread over pale features, a smile of victory and accomplishment, and Hermione realized that if they had not lured Umbridge into the Forbidden Forest that night, none of this would even have happened. They had made this happen.

A smile bloomed on her features in response as she felt that perhaps this would enable change within the Ministry.

What the teens did not notice was the blue, twinkling gaze watching over them, the wrinkles stretching over the wizened face of the Headmaster deepening further in a disapproving frown. Up until this year, both Granger and Malfoy had been perfect symbols for the good and the evil of the world, giving Harry the right perspective of the world as he had befriended the muggleborn and distanced himself from the culture of Purebloods by being hostile towards Malfoy. If those two antagonists suddenly proved to be compatible and grew to be close, then Harry's view of the world would be upended when he returned, something that could have unknown consequences.

That would not be acceptable.

**This chapter is, according to Word, exactly 5000 words long! Isn't that just awesome? :D **

**Writing has been slow for me lately because I'm working on my last exams in school before I graduate, but once school is over, I'll hopefully have more time to write :) I have everything planned all the way to the end (except for the epiolouge) so it's just to sit down and actually write it - which has proven to be hard enough :/ **

**I just hope you'll all have patience with me! :)**


	39. Chapter 39

**Thank you for all your wonderful reviews! With SlashnYaoi's review, we reached 1000 and beyond! :D **

The winding stone stair languidly rotated upwards, scraping against the surrounding walls as it carried Hermione towards Dumbledore's office. The book bag weighted heavily on her shoulder, a familiar and reassuring weight she barely noticed, her brows furrowed in a frown of uncertainty as she wondered why the Headmaster wanted to see her. Even McGonagall, who had been the one to forward the message of her meeting with Dumbledore, seemed to have been unaware of what the Headmaster's purpose was. That, by itself, wasn't all that strange, but she was still feeling uneasy about the whole matter, and that was what made her hesitate when the stairs came to a stop, facing her with the wooden door behind which professor Dumbledore probably waited.

Lately, a lot of things had come to light about the old, highly regarded Headmaster, making it clear that he was not who Hermione had thought him to be, and it left her unsure of how to see the man, how to behave around him. Should she distrust him, or could he still be trusted, at least to a certain degree? She wanted to believe the latter, but realized that doing so without questioning would be nothing but naïve.

Before she could some to any sort of conclusion, her thoughts were cut off as the door before her opened, revealing the wrinkled Headmaster sitting behind his desk, fingers braided together on the desk, bowl of lemondrops by his elbow and strange silver trinkets chirping and letting out small puffs of smoke. There was a smile in his long white beard, and he looked just as grandfatherly as he always had done. Hermione, however, was not convinced.

"Please do come in, Ms. Granger," Dumbledore invited her kindly, the door shutting behind her when she stepped forward into the office.

"Have a seat," the Headmaster continued. "Lemon drop?"

"No, thank you, sir," Hermione answered politely as she took a seat, facing the aged wizard before her, still wondering what the purpose of their meeting was. "May I ask… why you wished to see me, sir?" she asked hesitantly, knowing that it could take a great length of time for the Headmaster to come to the point if not pushed in the right direction. If the push wasn't all that discreet, well, then so be it.

"Such hurry, Ms. Granger. Such hurry. But I do understand that you must be short on time when you are such a model student, taking your schoolwork so seriously," Dumbledore praised her, and she felt a humbling blush colour her cheeks.

"Thank you, professor. And yes, I would like to go to the library before curfew to borrow some books for the latest Transfiguration paper," she lied smoothly, not the least bit bothered by the knowledge that she had finished that particular paper yesterday evening.

"Ah, well, I am afraid that it is simply the folly of an old man that has caused me to call you this fine evening," Dumbledore began with a slightly apologetic smile, his blue eyes twinkling. "But I must admit that certain developments during this year has worried me."

Hermione stared at him silently, her mind whirling with thoughts and guesses as to what the Headmaster might find worrying, dismissing some on the assumption that Dumbledore most likely didn't know of those particular secrets, such as Harry's whereabouts and new alliances.

"Am I right to presume that you are speaking of my friendship with Draco Malfoy, Headmaster?" she asked carefully, adopting an expression of innocence. "I cannot see how that would be troubling, however, since you have always advocated house unity, sir."

"Of course, Ms. Granger, but we are moving towards dark times and I find myself worried for how young Mr. Malfoy might influence you."

Trying to think quickly and wondering how Draco would have answered, Hermione did her best to arrange her expression into one of bewilderment. "I'm afraid I do not understand, sir."

Dumbledore gave her a charitable smile and answered in a slightly chiding tone: "I bear no doubt in my mind that you and Mr. Malfoy were willing participants in the situation regarding Dolores Umbridge and the rather… _abrupt _and dramatic end of her carrier as a professor."

"Oh," she voiced blankly, not at all sure of how to answer that. Of course she'd understood that the Headmaster would know how Umbridge's end came to be since every student seemed to know, but she did not know what to say now that he called her on it. Could he possibly meant to criticise her for what they'd done?

"I mean no offence, Headmaster, but you must agree that she was not fit to stay here at Hogwarts as a professor," she carefully defended their actions.

"Of course, my dear. It is not _what_ you did but _how _you chose to do it which leads me to believe that Mr. Malfoy is influencing you in a quite negative manner. I have no doubt that you would have found a way to have Umbridge leave the school should Harry still have been with us, but I believe myself to be correct when thinking that you would, surely, have found another way of achieving the goal."

Thinking back on earlier "adventures" that she had participated in along with Harry and Ronald, she realized the difference, namely that she and Draco had used cunning and underhanded methods common for Slytherins instead of the brash and courageous approach seen as part of being a Gryffindor.

"Instead of barging on and rushing forward we tried to find a solution through thinking," she summarized quietly. "Surely, you cannot find that to be negative, Headmaster?"

"Of course not," Dumbledore answered, but there was disappointment in his eyes and the twinkling had faltered a bit. "But with the knowledge and insight you have gained during the summer, you must understand that these carefree times are coming to and end."

Hermione found herself nodding, understanding that he was talking about the time she had stayed at Grimmauld Place with the Order of the Phoenix. All summer, she had seen the adult members of the Order preparing for battle and working to counter anything Voldemort might think to do as well as trying to raise awareness of his return in a society that stubbornly resisted their efforts, choosing instead to remain in blissful ignorance of the approaching danger.

"War is approaching," Dumbledore continued as if having read her mind, blue eyes steadily locked with brown ones. "I, perhaps more then anyone, would have wished for these peaceful times to remain, but they will not. Therefore, we must all chose a side in this war, Mr. Granger, and I am afraid that there is little doubt as to which side Mr. Malfoy will favour, while you are given little choice in the matter due to the nature of this conflict. Under these circumstances, your friendship with Mr. Malfoy cannot possibly persist and your safety would be in jeopardy should you choose to remain in contact with him. I'm sure you understand that you, as a dear friend of Harry's, will be one of their targets, if only to get to Harry."

Brown eyes stared into blue ones, soaking up the words, evaluating them and putting them into a greater context. The Headmaster would have been correct had things remained as they were before Harry's disappearance, but with Harry's change of alliances and the newfound knowledge she had consequently acquired, everything changed. While it was true that Draco's place in the upcoming war was predictable, it was unlikely that she would be targeted as a friend to Harry – instead, she might enjoy some protection because of their friendship. And contrary to Dumbledore's belief, she found herself thinking that her own place in the war was not as cut in stone as it would seem to be. In fact, she was becoming increasingly sure that she would not fight for Dumbledore, but she was also realizing that she would have to talk to Voldemort to be able to decide what to do, who to support.

"I understand," she answered gravely, her gaze dark and heavy with the understanding of the full situation, a situation that not even the Headmaster seemed to be fully aware of. "May I leave, sir? You have given me much to consider."

"Yes, of course. With a mind as brilliant as yours, I knew you would understand, thought it saddens me greatly that someone so young has to come to understand things such as these."

Hermione nodded quietly as she rose and left the office, her gaze distant as she thought of what to write to Harry and what to say to Voldemort when, or rather _if_, she met him. Her inattentiveness almost caused her to walk strait into Draco when she emerged behind the gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office, the only thing averting the collision being Draco's quickness as he grabbed Hermione's shoulders and steadied her to bring her to a stop.

"Are you okay?" he asked, worry in his grey eyes.

Blinking in surprise, Hermione nodded in confusion. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

A quick glance of mistrust towards the gargoyle that once again blocked the entrance to the Headmaster's office answered her question, and Draco said no more before he had placed an arm around her shoulders as if to make sure that she didn't try to run away while he led her away through the sparsely populated corridors. He didn't speak again until they had put a substantial distance between themselves and the Headmaster.

"What did he want?" Draco asked, his voice tight with restrained emotions.

"He just wanted to warn me," Hermione answered softly, still a bit bewildered as she didn't understand what had caused his reaction. "Why, Draco?"

"What did he warn you about?" the Slytherin prompted instead of answering, leading her through the Entrance Hall and to the tapestry showing the seal-like woman with her tea. Her eyes widened with intrigue and a light came to life in her gaze when she saw them approaching, taking special care to note the arm Draco had slung over Hermione's shoulders.

"It's not like that," Draco snapped when the woman opened her mouth, silencing her before she had a chance of commenting. Her intrigued gaze turned into a glare and she huffed before turning her attention to Hermione.

"You shouldn't trust this one," she opined primly. "You're not the only one he has brought here."

Hermione simply nodded silently as Draco pushed the tapestry aside and herded her into the confined, dark space hidden behind it. She knew very well that she wasn't the only one he'd taken here, especially since she'd been here before with Draco and the twins when the two redheads had been included in their plan to get rid of Umbridge, but the implications that Draco could have brought _someone else_ here, namely Harry, and done _something else_, made her grateful to the darkness of the space as it hid her blush.

"So?" Draco questioned as she sat down on the stone steps, the Slytherin leaning against the wall with his head turned to look down at her.

Hermione took a deep breath and let it out again in a sigh. "He said that our friendship couldn't possibly hold now that the war is coming, since we would naturally end up on different sides..." She fell silent, hesitating, and when she glanced up at Draco his silver eyes, turned mercury by the darkness, seemed to bore into her. "He worried that I wouldn't be safe with you, and said that I should end our friendship sooner rather then later, for my own good."

"He was worried? For your own good?" Draco repeated disbelievingly, his eyes narrowed. "And you believed that?"

Opening her mouth, Hermione hesitated, unsure of what to answer. She did doubt the sincerity of the Headmaster, yes, but she still didn't know what to think about what he'd said except that he had spoken the truth. She couldn't see what he would gain from lying to her.

Seeing her doubt and uncertainty, Draco shook his head, pushed away from the wall to stand before her with his hands once again gripping her shoulders, leaning close to look her in the eyes, the darkness no longer an obscuring curtain between them.

"He knows that we are... _close_," he said firmly, seemingly fumbling to find an appropriate word to describe their relationship. "He knows that you took part in our plan to get the Toad sacked, and that you did so willingly. He knows that you and Weasley are no longer friends, and that you have actually started using that brilliant intelligence of yours instead of just following Gryffindor brashness. His Golden Trio is no more, and he suspects that you are starting to question your loyalties to his Greater Good – and he does _not want that_."

"I can't see why it would matter all that much," Hermione argued disbelievingly. "I'd understand if it was Harry we were talking about, but I don't hold that importance."

Narrowed eyes stared into hers, and then Draco sighed somewhat sadly. "You still think that the Headmaster is a good man through and through, don't you? But you should see by now that that's not true, Hermione."

"I still don't understand-" she insisted, but Draco cut her off.

"Dumbledore doesn't know about Harry, does he?" Draco asked rhetorically, barely waiting for Hermione to shake her head before he continued. "Then he probably thinks that Harry is simply missing and to be found, and that he still has the mindset of the Gryffindor Golden Boy, the Boy-Who-Lived and saviour to be. The Headmaster thinks that Harry is still loyal to him, and that he will fight for the Greater Good once he is found and brought back, which means that everything has to be the way it was before he 'disappeared'. Any changes, such as Slytherins suddenly becoming friendly people instead of enemies, and Harry might start questioning his own unwavering loyalty. If the Golden Trio is no more and you have started to befriend Slytherins, then that is plenty of reason for Harry to start thinking for himself, especially since good Slytherins means that it is no longer obvious who is friend and who is foe."

Hermione stared at him silently, their faces so close their noses nearly brushed together. She breathed out slowly and let her eyes slide shut, taking in Draco's words and recognizing that what he'd said sounded plausible – more then so, actually.

"He doesn't know about Harry," she whispered, keeping her eyes closed. "Neither does he know that _I know_, and that my place in the upcoming war isn't as unchangeable as one might think. None of what he said actually applies to reality, because reality doesn't look the way he thinks it does."

Opening her eyes, she found that Draco's eyes sparkled happily, making her blink in surprise.

"You'll join the Dark Lord?" he asked quietly, hopefully.

"I…" Hermione began, hesitating again. "I'll have to speak to him first since I don't even know if he'll _let me_ join, and I have to find out for myself what his goals are since I cannot and will not condone of unnecessary violence and discrimination based on flawed prejudice."

Draco's hope dimmed a bit, but he nodded in understanding, a smile on his lips as he squeezed her shoulders lightly. Then he frowned and his good mood darkened considerably.

"We still have to do something about Dumbledore, thought."

"About Dumbledore? It's not like we can lure _him _out into the forest and get his sacked after a night with the centaurs," Hermione pointed out with a frown, making Draco flash her a slight smile of humour.

"Of course not," he agreed easily. "But we need him to believe that you believe what he said and that you have taken his words to heart… We need him to believe that you are distancing yourself from me because you think me dangerous, at least until you've spoken to our Lord or we've found a better solution."

Hermione frowned and gave a slow nod. She didn't like it as Draco was the closest friend she had at Hogwarts now that she could no longer be with Ronald, but she could se the necessity of it. "We'll only pretend, right?" she asked, needing Draco's answer as a reassurance.

"Yeah, and only as long as it's needed. If we don't, Dumbledore might figure out that you're already questioning him and that you might know more then you let on, and it would put you in danger," Draco explained, causing a wide smile to stretch over Hermione's lips as Draco's care and worry caused warmth to bloom in her chest.

Without thinking, she tilted her head up and pressed a light kiss onto his lips before realizing what she was doing and quickly withdrawing. She couldn't move far with Draco's hands on her shoulders, but she drew her head back, her Gryffindor courage enabling her to look Draco in the eye while she awaited his reaction and hoped that the Slytherin wouldn't see the blush threatening to burn her. With their close proximity, she realized that it was a futile wish, but she entertained it nonetheless.

Draco simply stared at her in silence, his eyes wide as the seconds ticked by without any reaction, Hermione's anxiety growing when Draco remained motionless. Was this one of the moments when she should have thought a bit before acting?

"Um, this is when you're supposed to give some kind of answer…" she clarified, deciding to follow the Gryffindor way of boldness now that she had started in that manner.

Whichever reaction she had expected, it had most certainly not been for Draco to grab her shoulders more firmly to pull her closer, causing her to let out a startled yelp before Draco's lips met hers. The kiss was hesitant, sweet and somewhat questioning, as if they were both a bit uncertain but more then willing to try. Separating, they let silence stretch between them as they leaned together with their foreheads touching, their skin warm and flushed.

"It's Christmas soon, so we won't have to pretend for all that long," Draco mumbled after a moment, and Hermione smiled warmly at him. Then her smile faltered, and she sighed.

"It's not like we can meet up during the holidays, though," she pointed out gloomily. "I hardly think your father is going to approve."

Draco grimaced at the reminder, obviously knowing that she was right. "That might change after you've talked to out Lord," he tried, but he didn't sound all too hopeful.

"You could always…" she began, but trailed off and fell silent.

"What?" Draco prompted, hoping for a solution.

"Well, I thought that maybe you could come home to me… My parents wouldn't object, but…" She took a deep breath, steeling herself and staring Draco straight in the eyes, awaiting his reaction to her words. "They're muggles, you know."

Draco opened his mouth only to close it again with a grimace. He then sighed and shook his head, seemingly going through an inner discussion with some serious argumentation. Taking a deep breath, his expression became one of true determination, and he looked Hermione in the eyes as he answered: "I'll try my best to be polite and not judge them beforehand… After all, they can't be all bad, having raised you."

XXX

Harry stared at the letter in his hand, the school owl that had brought the letter perched onto the back of the armchair he was seated in. The bird now and then dipped down to pull at his hair with its beak in an inquisitive manner, but Harry was too shocked by the letter's contents to take notice. He distractedly breathed in the smell of parchment and ink, but the letter smelled more like old, dusty tombs then a piece of new parchment usually would, and there was also a safe, earthly smell that was distinctively familiar, a smell that affirmed the identity of the sender.

"She cannot be serious," he mumbled distantly and the owl hooted as if answering, making Harry wave his hand vaguely in the bird's direction to shoo it away. The school owl snapped at his fingers and the teen hissed, pressing his hand to his chest to inspect the minor wound where a single drop of blood was swelling.

"Bloody bird," he cursed, popping the bleeding finger into his mouth to suck up the blood as he once again skimmed through the letter, unbothered by the taste of his own blood now that he had a preferable option available, his thirst sated by regular feedings of rich, fulfilling blood.

The bird suddenly took flight in a cascade of feathers, hooting in distress as it fled through the window left open after its arrival, startling Harry and causing him to jump in the seat. Looking up, he identified the new presences by smell before he saw Tom standing in the doorway with Nagini draped over his shoulders, the great snake no doubt the one responsible for the owl's fright. The female serpent hissed towards the window, baring her teeth threateningly even thought the victim of her anger was already long gone while she hissed about featherbrains daring do harm her hatchling.

A long-fingered had rose to stroke her triangular head soothingly, ruby eyes fixed onto Harry's thin form that was comfortably huddled in the armchair, enjoying the warmth of the crackling fire and the blanket draped over his shoulders.

"Is anything the matter, Harry?" the Dark Lord asked softly as he strode closer, coming to a stop beside him and placing the free hand on his head, aristocratic fingers scratching his scalp much like he was petting Nagini. The young vampire unconsciously leaned into the touch, basking in the warmth and comfort of human touch even as his green gaze trailed down to the letter clutched in his hand.

"It's a letter from Hermione," he mumbled, still not sure of what to think of what his brilliant friend had written. "Dumbledore is bothering her, and Draco guesses that the Headmaster is somehow onto her and her… diminishing faith in his believes."

"It is in no way surprising that the old fool is causing trouble," Tom remarked, yet he was clearly expecting Harry to continue.

Staring at the letter, Harry hesitated. Was this really a good idea? Hermione was undeniably brilliant, but she was a Gryffindor, and while Harry had little against Gryffindors, he realized that the characteristics for the courageous house might not serve them in this situation. Still, he understood her dilemma and silently agreed that he could find no better way of finding answers, but the thought of bringing the two of them together did not sit well with him, even thought he trusted Tom not to harm his friend. Taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out, he decided that he would simply have to trust Hermione to know what she was doing, even thought he thought it risky.

"Hermione wants to see you, to talk with you. She needs to decide which side to choose, and to be able to make a well-founded choice, she has to know more about your ideology and what you fight for," he explained hastily and turned his head to look up at Tom's regal form.

The Dark Lord gazed into the distance, his hand stilling in Harry's hair as he thought silently.

"She's brilliant, you know," Harry reminded him persuasively. "I'm sure she could contribute if she decided to side with us, and… and if she sides with us, then it will show others who have started to doubt Dumbledore's Greater Good that your believes and methods aren't as extreme as they seem to be, and then more people would be willing to turn against Dumbledore!"

Red eyes shifted to the side and stared into green ones, and Harry found himself swallowing. He suspected that Tom had already decided and that his own ramblings had been of no help, but it also felt as if Tom was testing him, silently urging him to do his best in order to sway the Dark Lord.

"And she's my friend," he added determinedly, knowing it was a useless argument that held no weight whatsoever, yet needing to clarify it to make sure that Tom knew that Harry could not and would not turn against his friends.

He was met with a smooth chuckle and the long fingers resumed their scratching, allowing Harry to release a sigh of relief.

"Write back to Ms. Granger and tell her that I'll receive her this Saturday and am willing to answer her questions – within reasonable boundaries, that is," Tom answered, leaning down to breathe the words into his ear, his warm breath tickling the cool skin of Harry's neck and chasing a shiver down the teen's spine. Then Tom's lips found his neck, shortly followed by his tongue and teeth, sucking and nibbling and lapping with the resolute intention of leaving a mark even thought Tom was well aware that this mark, just like all the others he had made, would fade within moments after he'd removed his lips. The knowledge, however, did nothing to neither deter the man nor make him abandon what seemed to have become a habit during the weeks that had passed since Harry's awaking.

Harry's eyes slid shut as he leaned back, his breathing quickening when Tom's breath ghosted over his jaw, strong hands settling on his hips to keep him in place even though he had no intention of moving, the gesture assuring his knowledge of his place in their relationship.

"Does my blood satisfy you, my little vampire?" Tom hisses softly, and Harry couldn't surely say if the man was speaking English or parseltongue at the moment – neither could he honestly say that he cared.

"Yes," he breathed, tilting his head to the side and nuzzling Tom's neck, breathing in the rich scent and listening to the alluring stream of blood that was pumped forth just beneath the skin.

Tom chuckled, clearly satisfied as his thumbs stroked Harry's hips, his hands steadily moving backwards. "I thought so, seeing as you have changed your diet completely in an astonishingly short amount of time."

"Hm?" Harry uttered unintelligently, his full focus turned to the soft feeling of Tom's hair as he twirled it between his fingers, the other hand stroking the man's neck in a worshiping manner.

"You have no appetite for food anymore, do you, Harry?" Tom practically purred, withdrawing a little so that he could turn his head to meet Harry's confused gaze while the teen tried to pull his mind from the path of pleasure.

"No, I don't…" he agreed quietly after a while, wondering why he hadn't realized it by himself. How could he have just forgotten to eat? How could he not have noticed that he no longer craved food when hungry and that he no longer found even the finest of foods appetising?

"I don't even remember when I ate last," he realized with a frown of dislike.

"Your have fully turned into a vampire now, Harry," Tom said, making the statement sound like praise as if he had accomplished something. "_My vampire_."

Harry smiled, completely unbothered by the possessiveness of Tom's claim as he grabbed the front of the Dark Lord's black robes and pulled himself closer, leaving no space between them. Tom chuckled at his eagerness but had no objections, as usual willing to claim, conquer and possess. Hands pulled and pressed and stroked, clothes were discarded or simply vanished and their breathing turned laboured. Intimately familiar with each other, it took little effort to give pleasure and cause arousal, and it did not take long until they stumbled from the office into the bedroom to leave an amused Nagini behind.

Harry had no idea of who's hand did what and quickly lost track of where his own burning body ended and Tom's heated form began, but such things seemed trivial in the face of the pleasure they shared. Hands pulled and stroked on straining needs, burning lips melded together and then they were _connected_, fusing them into a single being and turning laboured breathing into quickening gasps and incoherent moaning. He came with a shout of '_Tom!_' and drifted into the lazy, blissful haze where his mind seemed to be drifting on little fluffy clouds and his body has relaxed and comfortably leaden.

Quite some time later, when he had regained control of his breathing and his mind had cleared, he opened his eyes and looked up at the man beside him from his own position of laying curled on his side, pressed against Tom's leg with his head pillowed on a hip. Tom looked as composed as ever, sitting back against the pillows with his breathing calm and his hair in order, the blossoming mark at the side of his throat that had yet to be healed with a flick of a wand the only proof that the man had participated in the same activities that had left Harry breathless. Harry had once worried that Tom didn't get as much enjoyment from their intimidate acts as the teen did, but the man had simply stated that Harry lacked control while he himself had a self-control matched by few, causing the obvious difference between their outward reaction.

Tom waved his hand just as Harry snorted at the memory, and the door to the office opened to let through wandlessly summoned parchment and self-inking quill that obediently settled in the hand awaiting them, even as Tom flicked his wand with his other hand and conjured a little table over his lap, somehow finding place for it even thought Harry was snuggling against his side.

"You gonna write a letter?" Harry asked disbelievingly when Tom settled to write, the tip of the quill scratching against the parchment, leaving black calligraphy in its wake.

"I am answering your friend, seeing as we gain little from you acting like a mediator between us," Tom answered, a hand coming down to comb through Harry's hair even as he continued writing, having mastered the skill of doing so without needing to hold the parchment in place.

Letting his eyes slip shut in appreciation, Harry hummed with a slight smile. If the man was willing to write directly to the young witch, then perhaps it wasn't such a bad idea for Hermione to talk to Tom face to face, after all.

**And with that we are nearing the end! We only have a few chapters left to go, I believe O,o**

**On another note, I'll warn you that in two weeks time I am going to Japan and stay there for three weeks. During that time, I'll most likely write very little if anything at all seeing as I'll be studying and living in a host family, so it'll take quite some time for next chapter to be up. I'll try to be good and write on the plane, but you'll most likely get chapter 40 after I've returned home again, so please be patient! :)**


	40. Chapter 40

**Here you have it – chapter 40! Many of you were… _not so happy _with having to wait about 6 weeks for the next chapter, so I got down to it and wrote this. It's short, yes, but it's something, so you better be grateful! ;P**

The Mansion towered high above her as Hermione walked along the path to the front door, wide windows staring down at her intensively, judgementally, coldly. Not even the first time when she came here to meet Harry had she been this nervous, her fingers fiddling with the hem of her robe until she forced herself to stop and clutched her hands in front of her. Glancing to the side, se found the Death Eater that had apparated her sneering at her, dark malice in his eyes as he was no doubt picturing what he thought would happen to her once she met with the Dark Lord. Glaring in turn, Hermione turned her attention forwards again and swallowed, hoping that the Death Eater would be proven wrong.

Putting her hands in her pockets to keep herself from taking up the fiddling again, she clenched her fists around the objects in her pockets. Her wand rested in the right pocket, ready to be drawn and used in defence should it be needed even thought she strongly doubted she would be able to do anything if the Dark Lord decided to curse her. In her other pocket was the letter she had received as answer, the one that the Dark Lord himself had written in a beautiful, flowing hand, signed with a flourish. The fact that Tom Riddle had written to her was both elating and horrifying, and it made her feel so incredibly small and unimportant yet somewhat inflated seeing as she must somehow be considered important if _he _took his time to write to her, however short the answer may have been.

The double doors opened just before she reached them, and the house elf, Minxy, bowed to her. Hermione smiled slightly and greeted the poor creature as an equal, though Minxy did not answer with the shocked reaction she had received when she had done so the first time. The elf had gotten used to Hermione's way of treating house elves and her talk of freedom and economic compensation, and treated Hermione as any other guest. She simply turned to the Death Eater and bowed to him as well before saying: "Master wishes for sir to be waiting to bring Ms. Hermione Granger back when she is being done talking to Master."

"What?" the man exclaimed, clearly surprised. "I have to bring the mudblood back?"

"It is Master's wishing," Minxy repeated unflinchingly, and the Death Eater growled angrily before stomping off, leaving Hermione to look after him with a frown. Perhaps coming here to speak to the Dark Lord was pointless, if all of his followers were like that man. On the other hand, she had seen Lucius Malfoy, and even thought he was a cold man who clearly disliked her for being a muggleborn, he was far more sophisticated.

"Will Ms. Hermione Granger please be coming with me?" Minxy asked and led Hermione inside, through the grand entrance hall and up the stairs. Hermione soon realized that they were headed towards the office that she was now familiar with, and a minute later they came to a halt outside the door. Minxy knocked and stood to wait a few minutes, minutes that seemed to tick by far more slowly then normally, every minute becoming an hour of nervous uncertainty for Hermione before the house elf opened the door to let her in, even though the young witch couldn't find any sign of an answer from inside.

Upon entering, she found Harry raising from one of the armchairs by the fire, a smile on his lips and a light in his green eyes as he spread his arms and greeted her with a hug that she returned with familiarity. The gesture of friendliness calmed her a bit, assuring her that she had a friend with her that would not allow her to come to any harm, a friend who could work as a mediator between her and the Dark Lord should it this meeting turn out to be a catastrophe.

"He has promised that you won't be harmed, to listen to whatever you have to say and answer your questions within reasonable limits," Harry mumbled in her ear. "I'll stay in the background to make sure that he stays true to that."

With that, he stepped back and winked at her before giving her a light push towards the desk, encouraging her to face the third occupant of the room. The Dark Lord was sitting behind the very same desk that Hermione used to occupy, but that was the one and only similarity between them. His eyes were the colour of fresh blood and his gaze intense, the classical features of his face arranged into a look of graciousness, leaving no doubt as to his power and making it very clear that Hermione should be grateful for this chance to meet and talk with him. Even his posture was regal, yet he did nothing but sit in that same chair that Hermione had been sitting in, his arms resting on the desktop with his fingers braided together.

Swallowing, Hermione bowed. She did not throw herself subserviently to the floor as she had understood that the Death Eaters tended to do, but she tipped her body from the waist forward in a display of respect to the power and knowledge of the man before her. Deciding whether to do something to show her respect or not had taken a long debate and a few old books on pureblood customs from the library as well as a short discussion with Draco when she had been able to meet him briefly in class without making it obvious that they were still close. In the end, she hadn't been able to decide until the very moment she was faced with the Dark Lord, but it felt somewhat right to show her respect to the man since there were many aspects of him that deserved it.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Lord Riddle," she said, trying to keep her voice clear even as she heard it waver slightly towards the end. Addressing the man by his name had also been a hard decision to make, but in the end she decided that it would be for the best since it would show that she hoped for the man to have changed along with his ideals. That along with the fact that she refused to call him Voldemort or my Lord and that calling him "Mr. Dark Lord" sounded utterly ridiculous made her quite sure of her choice – she could only hope that the Dark Lord picked up on her reasoning behind the choice of name and did not react negatively to it.

"Ms. Granger," Riddle acknowledged her smoothly without pause. "Please, do take a seat."

Hermione rose from her bow and sat down in a comfortable looking chair that had been placed before the desk, lifting her gaze to look at the Dark Lord seated before her, red eyes watching her as intently and unrelentingly as ever.

"You stated in your letter that you were interested in discussing my goals and means of achieving them," Riddle began when it was obvious that Hermione had no idea of how to initiate their meeting, and the teenage witch silently thanked the man.

"Yes," she agreed with a nod. "I wish to know what you truly think about muggles and what your reasoning behind those believes are," she stated, seeing as it was the most important question and she therefore wanted it answered before she could start asking other, less important questions. The answer to this question would, after all, determine if there was any chance of her being accepted as an ally, and most likely give her the information she needed to be able to decide whether she wanted to side with Harry and Riddle. Of course she did not wish to openly oppose her friend, but if he decided to stand for believes too extreme for her, she would not be able to side with him and would perhaps even feel compelled to work against them. However much she disliked the idea of going against Harry and, consequently, Draco, she could not and would not go against her own most basic principles.

Red eyes regarded her quietly for a moment, and when Riddle answered, it was not the answer that Hermione had been expecting.

"Muggles are, ultimately, a danger and a threat against wizardkind that we must protect ourselves from at any cost."

Hemrmione blinked and stared at him in surprise, always having thought that the Dark Lord saw muggles as lesser beings to be _disposed of_. "How so?"

"While they are not as powerful as we are due to the fact that they lack magic, they greatly outnumber us and just like any human, they strive to survive. The majority of them are intolerant towards the _unknown _that is commonly perceived as a _threat_ to mankind, and that threat is to be warded against and _taken care of. _Consequently, the muggles are quite adapt at distinguishing whoever might be different, and they have proven to be able to deploy true cruelty towards those seen as a threat already at a very young age. If the muggles were to become aware of our existence, a war between the races would be inevitable, and the outcome of such a war is unclear, the winner unpredictable. Even if we were to win, the losses would be many and the damage to our society devastating.

Thus such a war must be avoided – _detection_ must be avoided. We cannot let the muggles become aware of out existence, and we must therefore shield ourselves, by diminishing the contact between out worlds."

Silence settled between them while Hermione found herself revaluating what she'd thought she'd known about the Dark Lord's view of muggles. Still, his words might be no more then a nice way of saying that he whished to kill all muggles before they had a chance to find out that magic existed.

"How are you going to accomplish that?" she asked quietly, her eyes slightly narrowed in suspicion.

There was a slight glint in the depths of Riddle's red eyes, a glint that looked surprisingly much like approval, confusing Hermione and making her suspect that she'd read the man wrong. She had no way to verify weather she was right or not as the glint was gone the next moment, and then the man was answering her question.

"We have to isolate our world from the world of the muggles, which means that we cannot accept muggleborns into our community and relationships between muggles and wizards or witches are to be forbidden. The ideal solution would be to ban all contact between us and the muggles, but such would not be possible. Instead, we must ensure that no muggle is made aware of our existence in any way, and therefore, no one can under any circumstance reveal the existence of magic to them."

Hermione badly wanted to turn back and look at Harry to ask him if he'd been previously aware of the things that Riddle way saying, but she suspected that doing so would be seen as an insult and therefore kept her steady attention at the man seated before her.

"What about the muggleborns, like me? You can't ignore their existence and pretend as if they're not there!" she exclaimed, the mere thought that mugglebornes like herself would never get the chance to experience the wonders of magic upsetting her.

"Why can I not, Ms. Granger?" Riddle asked calmly, that little glint returning again before disappearing just as quickly.

"Firstly, it would endanger your isolation as their accidental magic could make muggles discover us, especially if they were allowed to grow with their magic without guiding and support, without learning to control the magic. Accidental magic would become more and more common until the existence of magic would be blatantly obvious, and from there, it wouldn't take long for muggles to realize that there is more to it, that whole societies and _schools _teaching magic exists. The whole effort of separating our worlds would be for naught!

"Secondly, you need them and turning against them would be going against your own believes."

A dark brow was hitched up and her statement gained a look that quite clearly questioned however she had reached_ that _conclusion. Crossing her arms, she leaned back in her seat, facts and arguments that she had written down and repeated swirling in her head as she had studied for this meeting much like she would have before a test, with the exception that her material originated more from her own conclusions then dry facts from books and lectures.

"Would you care to explain yourself?" Riddle asked coolly, thought it was obviously not as much a question as a masked demand.

Leaning forward again as if ready to launch herself over the desk, Hermione's eyes gained a determined look to them as she threw herself headfirst into arguments and questions she had prepared, starting with the issue of inbreeding that was becoming a increasingly big problem for the pureblooded families as purebloods became fewer with each generation and refused to marry anyone of lesser heritage. The new blood that muggleborns and halfbloods provided was necessary unless the purebloods wished to eliminate their own existence, and even though many argued differently, there existed no proof confirming the superiority of purebloods, at least not in regards of magical strength. To make her point clear, she mentioned herself and Harry compared to the magical ability of Ronald and Neville even thought she was uncomfortable of using the latter for such a purpose, yet is was obvious that she and Harry, neither of which was a pureblood, was stronger then the two teens from pureblooded families.

Riddle listened while she argued, her monologue turning into something akin to a one-sided discussion where she brought up her own arguments along with arguments against the point she was trying to make, thought she did, of course, prove the arguments against her to be faulty so as to give credibility to her own cause. She distractedly noted that she was gesticulating quite animatedly but didn't try to stop herself, the wide movements helping her as she tried to express herself as clearly as possible.

With continued determination she went on to argue for equal rights for all species, making sure to point out that Harry had told her that Riddle worked for such rights, being the reason as to why many magical creatures sided with him in the conflict and were consequently branded as "Dark". Muggles, she claimed, could be seen as a species, and she silently dared the Dark Lord to protest her claim when she went on to argue that Riddle would be contradicting himself if he killed muggles while working for equal rights for all species. Under the sharp gaze and slightly raised eyebrows of the Dark Lord, she stretched her argument to include mugglebornes and halfbloods, meaning that they, too, should have equal rights.

Hermione didn't know how long she had spoken for when she was finished, but the house elf had popped in with a pitcher of water and a glass for her sometime during her argumentation, and she had emptied the glass several times to keep her voice from going hoarse. Riddle's attention had been unwavering during the whole time, the man sometimes giving little nods to show that he understood or perhaps even agreed with whatever Hermione said at the moment, even starting minor discussions when he wished to argue against something, making her defend her point further to show that she was right. Now that silence settled over the room for the first time in a long while, the young witch found her breathing to have quickened a bit, and she felt hot and flushed, adrenaline pumping through her veins in excitement. During their arguments, her respect for the powerful and no doubt intelligent man sitting before her had grown considerably, and to have such a discussion with him had been truly exhilarating.

"Ms. Granger, I have heard quite a lot of your from Harry, and he has often empathized your brilliance, especially academically. I must say that you have managed to live up to the expectations that Harry has caused me to have of you, which I had not expected you to be able to do," Riddle stated calmly and Hermione felt her face burn with a humbling blush at the praise.

"There is one thing, however, that he has not told me of," Riddle continued and Hermione listened eagerly even as she tried to force the blush from her cheeks. "That, Ms. Granger, would be your apparent interest in the Dark Arts."

Hearing those words, Hermione felt the blush leave her face quite willingly to be replaced with paleness and she gulped uncomfortably, unsure of how to answer the man. Was he angry because she had been sitting in his chair, using his desk? Should she have asked permission before touching the rare and doubtlessly priceless books that she had been studying the past weeks? Would this negate the positive outcome that their discussion had had, meaning that she had come here and talked herself hoarse for naught?

"Yes, sir," she agreed, deciding to put forth a brave front. Besides, if she showed her increasing interest in Dark Arts, it should please the Dark Lord and perhaps pacify him a bit if he was indeed angered by what she'd done. "After having found your measurable collection of literature on the subject, I have found myself growing increasingly interested in truly studying the Dark Arts and therefore took the liberty of borrowing your books while meeting with Harry."

That slight glint in the man's eyes returned and Hermione breathed a silent sigh of relief at the sign that Riddle wasn't displeased with her.

"Have you found the reason for the negative stigma against Dark Arts?" Riddle inquired and Hermione frowned in response.

"Yes, I have, although I find it quite… unreasonable to ban certain kinds of magic simply because such magic is harder to ward against. It is harder to ward against it because it is stronger and thus more efficient. One could do great, _good_ things with such magic, so banning it and making it seem bad is nothing but foolish!" she answered heatedly as that was the very issue that upset her most when she read about the Dark Arts and what had caused them to be banned.

To her surprise, the corners of Riddle's mouth turned upwards in a slight smile, and the glint in his eyes returned with a vengeance.

"I do believe, Ms. Granger, that we will be able to get along just fine," Riddle stated and Hermione blinked at him in surprise before smiling. "You mentioned in your letter that you were unsure of which side to choose in this upcoming conflict?"

"Yes, Mr. Riddle," she confirmed easily.

"Then I can only assume that this meeting has enabled you to make that choice?"

"It certainly has, Mr. Riddle."

**That was that! I probably won't write while in Japan, but I'll try to use my time during the flight wisely. I cannot, however, promise that the next chapter will be uploaded as soon as I get back home. _With luck_, you'll have it in 5 weeks time. See you then! :)**


	41. Chapter 41

**I promised that I'd try to write while in Japan, but there has simply been no time as pretty much every minute of my three weeks were booked with activities and school, and when I did have free time to do what I wished with, I was too tired to do anything constructive. Anyway, here is the chapter – I hope you like it even though it's late, but don't say I didn't warn you! ;) **

A light drizzle of snow was languidly moving towards the ground, dancing in the wind as the snowflakes descended from the clouded skies. Christmas was fast approaching, but in the Mansion of the Dark Lord, the snow covering the grounds in a powdery layer of white was the only clue to tell that the holiday of warmth to be shared with family and friends was only five days away as there were no decorations in the hall, none of the Christmas spirit shared among the occupants and no talk of gifts and surprises. In fact, Harry was sitting alone in the office that now belonged to him and Tom both, his body seemingly boneless as he relaxed in one of the armchairs by the fire, his pose closer to laying down then sitting with one arm slung over the armrest and the other resting on his stomach, his feet propped up on the opposite armchair as he gazed rather listlessly through the window, imagining himself being as light as a snowflake to dance on the wind.

The imposing, serpentine figure of the Dark Lord's familiar slithered into the room, raising her head from the floor and flickering her tongue to taste the air before setting course towards the armchairs to climb into the one mostly unoccupied and drape herself over the young vampire's feet, basking in the warmth of the fireplace.

"_Don't tell me that Tom sssent you here to sssee to it that I actually train and don't jussst loiter_," Harry greeted her in the tongue of snakes, his brilliantly green eyes moving to give Nagini a rather disgruntled look before returning his attention to the falling snow. The great snake simply gave her hissing equivalent of a laugh, revealing that Harry had been correct in his guess, and the teen pouted in response. Tom had been relentless in his constant nagging for Harry to train his wandless magic lately, and while Harry was very well aware of how important it was to know how to perform magic wandlessly since he knew how defenceless one would otherwise be when without a wand, he found it increasingly boring to train day after day. The green gaze moved from the window to the grand desk, the surface covered in pieces of black stone, everything from a fine powder to sharp pebbles, some having landed on the floor when the force of the little explosion had been too great for the desk to catch all the debris. The desk itself, however, seemed to be completely untouched by the force that had crushed the stone.

Harry sighed and grumbled silently under his breath, the reminder of his training having woken him from the comfortable daze that he had been relaxing in. Concentrating on the pieces of stone, he raised a hand towards the desk with his fingers spread. Green eyes narrowed in concentration as he gathered his magic for deliberate use of wandless and wordless magic, and then he closed his hand into a fist and released the energy, the shards and pebbles zooming through the air and the powder rising from the desk to recreate a perfectly smooth egg of black stone, not a single scratch visible on its blank surface. Letting his hand fall to dangle over the armrest again, Harry sighed, the rush of adrenaline and feeling of accomplishment almost completely gone as he had exploded and repaired the same egg all morning, the piece of complex magic no longer challenging enough to excite him.

It wasn't just the training that bored Harry, but also the fact that Tom seemed awfully busy these last few days, meeting with Death Eaters, leaving the Mansion at random intervals and sitting silently at the desk with papers spread out before him, the contents a mystery to Harry who was firmly ignored by the Dark Lord. There was obviously something going on, something that Tom was planning, and Harry wasn't sure if he was curious and wanted to know or mortified for what the Dark Lord could be planning. It could be better to be unaware of the machinations of the Dark Lord after all, both for his mental and physical health. Still, it irked him that the man was so busy while Harry had no idea of what he was doing.

The distant sound of steps reach him from the corridor, the click of dress shoes against wooden floors muffled by the closed door, yet he easily recognizes the gate, lazily thinking that man must have been summoned by Harry's thoughts. Due to his relaxed position in the armchair – or rather, between the two armchairs – he couldn't see the door between the office and the corridor, but his enhanced hearing easily heard the steps come to a stop outside the door, the handle being turned before the door was opened and Tom stepped into the room, flooding it with his domineering, rich smell. Emerald eyes slipped close as the teenage vampire breathed in deeply, inhaling the smell that both excited him and relaxed his whole being. Behind closed eyes he listened as the familiar steps approached across the room, the door closing behind the man who came to a stop just beside the armchair Harry lay in.

Opening his eyes, Harry found Tom standing right where his nose had pinpointed him, his form as regal as ever and red eyes gazing down at him with a dark brow raised in quiet inquiry, clearly wondering why he would be dozing by the fire when he should be training. Harry simply blinked up at him, his head cocked to the side and emerald eyes wide in innocence, making it seem as if he had done noting wrong and was completely free of guilt – and it wasn't even a lie, because why did he suddenly have the train all the time? There really seemed to be no reason for it, so why do it?

A flick of Tom's wand, and both Nagini and Harry's feet were lifted from the armchair to be lowered onto the floor, leaving the armchair unoccupied for Tom to sit in. As the man usually leaned back with his arms on the armrests and one knee crossed over the other in a regal pose that made it seem as if he looked down his nose on everyone, it surprised Harry when he leaned forward instead, his elbows on his knees as he fixed the young vampire with an intent stare. Uncomfortable under the intensity of that heavy, red gaze even thought he felt as if he should have grown used to it by now, Harry straightened up a bit to sit properly, suddenly wondering if Tom had come to tell him something important, something more serous then the usual nagging about training.

"How is your training coming along, Harry?"

Harry blinked in surprise as he had expected something else, _anything _else, and then he groaned and let himself fall back in the armchair, turning his gaze skyward.

"I would appreciate it if you took your training more seriously, Harry," Tom said sternly.

"Why?" Harry asked, emeralds meeting with ruby. "Why am I suddenly supposed to spend all my time training, Tom? Is there even a reason to it?"

Red eyes closed for a moment and the feared man took a deep breath as if gathering his patience and reining in his temper before he looked at Harry again and answered.

"Do you remember the prophesy I told you about?"

The young vampire stared at him in stunned disbelief, having thought that all talk of the prophesy was over and done with seeing as he had no interest in it whatsoever and thought it nothing but absurd to believe in such a thing. He had still not fully reconciled with the fact that his life as he knew it had been caused by said prophesy, and he didn't even dare think of what his life could have been like had the prophesy never been uttered. Deciding that everything regarding the prophesy was best left in the past, they hadn't spoken of it since Tom first told Harry of it, and the vampire had thought it would continue that way.

"What about it?" he asked snappishly, making it clear that it was not a subject he would willingly discuss.

"There is a room in the Department of Mysteries where copies of all prophesies ever told have been recorded. Only those mentioned in the prophesy can touch the orb in which it is recorded, which means that either of us has to go to the Ministry personally to get the prophesy."

"Good," Harry decided. "Then that's doomed since none of us can waltz into the Ministry without being recognized, and I doubt they'd just let us walk into that Department of Mysteries anyway, so let's just forget all about the stupid prophesy and-"

"I have found a way to infiltrate the Ministry and get into the Department of Mysteries," Tom injected, efficiently stunning Harry into silence and gaining a look of disbelief in return.

"That's what's been keeping you so busy these part days?" he asked, his dislike for the matter clear in his tone.

"Yes, Harry, it is."

The young vampire shot up from his comfortable position in the armchair, the conversation making him to agitated for him to remain impassively still. Standing before the fireplace with the crackling flames backlighting him, he gesticulated wildly while demanding answers.

"Why, then? Why do you want the damned prophesy? What does it _matter_? Just_ leave it be_!"

Tom sighed and shook his head, the passive gesture somehow making Harry even more irate. "I'm afraid I can't do that, Harry, for I wish to know what the prophesy sais about us."

Silence settled over the room as ruby clashed with emeralds, one filled with determination and the other with exasperated disbelief.

"You already know what it sais," Harry said quietly after a moment.

"Only the beginning," Tom argued softly. "I wish to know it's full content – and I wish for you to be there with me, in the Department of Mysteries, to hear it with me."

"That's why you've had me train like this," Harry realized after a moment of stunned silence. "You expect me to fight for you."

"I expect you to be able to defend yourself should it be needed," Tom corrected smoothly. "I am well aware that I cannot expect you to participate fully in battle seeing as quite a few of the people you still hold dear are likely to intercept us with the intention of opposing us."

Harry nodded slowly, his jaw slightly slack, but then he frowned. "Why would people I know be there? I don't know all that many who works for the Ministry."

"The Order will undoubtedly try to interfere," Tom answered, apparently expecting it to explain everything. It didn't.

"What Order?"

This time, it was Tom who looked at him in surprise, but then he nodded, humming slightly in understanding.

"I see," he mumbled to himself before returning his focus to Harry. "There is an Order, founded and led by Albus Dumbledore, called the Order of the Phoenix."

Harry snorted at the name, silently thinking that it fitted the old Headmaster, and Tom let the corners of his lips curl upwards in agreement before he continued.

"This Order was first founded in the seventies as a gathering of witches and wizards to fight against me under the leadership of Dumbledore, indirectly making them Dumbledore's private force to mobilize for the _Greater Good_ that you are quite familiar with. They were known to be capable and loyal fighters that one could depend on and trust, and many put their faith and hope in them. While the identities of most members were and are still unknown, the group in itself is quite well known. Your parents were among the known members, Harry."

Silence followed the statement as Tom gave Harry a moment to let it all sink in, and then the young vampire nodded for him to continue.

"The Order has been inactive for many years while I have not been seen as a threat, but it was re-established after my reincarnation half a year ago with a secrecy charm cast by Dumbledore to keep the secrets of the Order safe. Still, I have learnt the identity of quite a few of its members, among them Minerva McGonagall, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black and the Weasleys. They are all likely to try to oppose us at the Ministry, seeing as they are loyal members who participated already during the first years of the Order's existence. I may have been willing to indulge you in certain wishes regarding your friends but I will not order my followers to refrain from causing harm while in battle."

Harry closed his eyes as he thought about what Tom had said, having detected the unvoiced question of if he could tolerate that. His first thought was that he shouldn't have to ever tolerate seeing the people he held dear fight against each other, but he quickly realized how childish and naïve such a thought was. They were at war, and even thought it would, of course, be preferable if they could just meet and talk it over to end it all, it wasn't a realistic enough alternative for Harry to waste his hopes on. The most important aspect of it at the moment was that they were all into it willingly, knowing the risk and embracing it while going to battle. They were grown men and women, fighting for something they believed in and willing to sacrifice their lives for it. Not to mention that he could not ask Tom not to fight, seeing as he believed more in Tom's wishes to change the wizarding community then in Dumbledore's Greater Good, and he could therefore not ask anything of Tom that would hinder him and put him at a disadvantage in a battle.

Rationally, he understood all this, but that did not mean that he liked it. Then again, what was there ever to like about war and death? Deciding that reason would have to do for now, he nodded to the feared man sitting before him, showing that he understood.

"Then will you come with me to the Ministry and the Hall of Prophesies?" Tom asked, making it sound like an invitation to a party and making Harry stare at him as the teen had somewhat forgotten about the infiltration of the Ministry when he tried to take in the revealing discussion they'd had.

_Do I want to come_? No, he didn't really want to participate in the battle that would follow, even thought the thought of breaking into the Ministry didn't faze him. To participate in what would most likely be seen as a unusual Death Eater raid, one where they would be fighting against people he knew and held dear… On the other hand, the fight would occur even if he wasn't there, meaning that his presence didn't really change anything. Going would be scary and he would no doubt be a nervous wreck, but would it be better to stay in the Mansion and wait for Tom to come back to tell him how it went and who died? Or worse, wait while wondering if Tom would come back. He held no doubt that the man could fend for himself, but if the Order showed up, then Dumbledore might as well, and the two great wizards were too evenly matched for Harry to be comfortable with the thought of them duelling.

No, it would be better to be there, to see it for himself and not have to sit at home in the Mansion and wonder with no way of getting answers and no way of helping should it be needed. Breathing in a deep breath for fortification, he nodded again.

"I'll come," he said with quiet finality.

XXX

Hermione was standing in her bedroom, pictures on the blue walls and books crowding the low shelves, snow covering the world outside the window. On the floor beside her bed stood her Hogwarts trunk, the lid open and most of her things already unpacked even though it hadn't been much more then two hours since she'd stepped off the Hogwarts Express. Some of the things had been directly transferred to the muggle suitcase resting on top of her bed, schoolbooks she wanted to read mixed with warm clothing and toiletries. Seeing as she didn't get along with Ron anymore and couldn't trust Dumbledore, she wouldn't spend the Christmas holiday at Grimauld Place but go skiing with her parents instead. It would be good to get away from it all and relax for a while, she thought as she folded a knitted sweater and put it in the bag, but she was going to miss Draco and Harry.

The soft _bing-bong _from the doorbell travelled up to her room, making her drop the knitted socks she'd been rolling into a ball as she turned to go downstairs and greet the person at the door. Coming out into the corridor outside her room, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror on the loo, making her halt and turn to take a quick trip into the toilet to push her hair behind her ear before she frowned as she realized what she was doing. When had she ever cared for the way her hair looked?

"Hermione! Your friend is here!" her mother called from downstairs and she practically jumped out of the bathroom to make a dash for the stairs and thunder down them two steps at a time. With just a few steps left before she would be visible from the door she stopped herself, a hand on the banister so that the momentum wouldn't make her fall forward to smash her face onto the floor. Taking a few deep breaths to calm her speeding heart, she took the last steps in a slow, more dignified manner even as she realized that they had undoubtedly heard her not so gracious descent.

Walking around the corner, she found Draco standing just inside the door that was closed behind him to ward off the cold of December, his heavy robe coloured a light grey with a fluffy scarf in white with thin grey stripes wrapped around his throat. His pale hair was windblown and slightly out of order, his eyes a stormy grey that would match the colour of the clouds populating the sky, ready to release a new cascade of snow over the already whitened world below. Those eyes brightened a bit upon seeing her and a smile touched his lips, a smile she couldn't stop herself from answering, her own expression of happiness far wider and more open.

"I assume this is the handsome young man you've told me about, honey?" her mother asked with a smile, making Hermione snap to attention and her face flush.

"Mom!" she groaned in embarrassment.

Draco, however, seemed to take it in stride, turning his smile to Mrs. Granger and taking her hand to bow over it and let his lips touch the backside, greatly surprising Hermione as she had expected Draco to be little more then civil to her muggle parents.

"A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Granger. I am Draco Malfoy," he introduced himself smoothly as he straightened, dropping her mother's hand perhaps a tad bit too quickly.

If so, then Mrs. Granger obviously didn't notice as she actually blushed, surprise evident in her eyes at the display of manners that had long since died out in the muggle world.

"Oh, dear. Such a charming young man," she said, fanning herself a bit with her hand as she smiled before glancing at her daughter. "He really seems to be a true catch," she said with a wink, making Hermione blush furiously in embarrassment.

"_Mom_!" she exclaimed in mortification before she grabbed her warm winter coat and pulled Draco with her through the door, making a quick escape from her impossibly embarrassing mother. She could only be grateful that her father was still at the clinic taking care of the last patient before the Christmas holidays.

"Try to make it back before dinner, honey!" her mother called after them while laughing and Hermione waved over her shoulder as answer.

"Sorry about her," she apologized when they were well and truly alone, surrounded by houses and cars parked along the street, some of which would only be accessible after a lot of shovelling as the plough had pushed snow up against them when clearing the street. She really loved her parents and got along well with them, but seeing as Draco was the first boy she'd really been interested in, her parents were insufferably interested in him and quite simply unbearable at times.

Glancing sideways at Draco while pulling her cloak on against the cold, she saw him smile and shake his head.

"My mother would most likely be much the same," he said, turning to look at her. "Admittedly after you had left so that there would be only the two of us to hear it."

"Of course, manners and all that," Hermione answered teasingly even though she was quietly surprised, having a hard time to imagine a Malfoy behaving like her own mother. Then again, Draco was nothing like she'd thought he was now that they'd gotten to know each other, and when she thought about it, all mothers were likely the same when it got down to it.

Draco simply nodded, still smiling as he came to a stop in the middle of the very muggle street to close his arms around her in a hug of warmth and comfort and closeness, as if he wanted to make sure that he still had the right to do so. Returning the gesture, Hermione squeezed him with all her might until he actually winced and then she loosened her hug a bit to put her forehead against his shoulder, breathing in the crisp smell of Draco's cologne.

"I missed you," she mumbled truthfully, feeling silly yet incredibly happy.

"It hasn't even three hours since we saw each other," he pointed out dryly, earning a harsh poke in the ribs. "Okay, okay! I give!" he exclaimed before somehow managing to bend his neck in an angle that must surely be unnatural to press a kiss to her temple. Dumbledore's watchful eye hadn't stopped them from growing closer still during the last weeks of school before the Christmas holidays, and the shyness and uncertainty that had hindered them in the beginning was as good as washed away. As soon as they could have a private moment together without the risk of being seen, they would steal kisses and touches and simply be close, reassuring the right they had to each other.

"Shall we?" Draco asked after a moment of comfortable silence, his breath coming out in a misty cloud.

"Let's," she answered lightly, a bit disappointed that their private moment together was over yet excited, happy to get to see her friend again.

Draco took a slip of parchment from his pocket, Harry's tidy scrawl saying that Minxy would meet them at the gates, and held it out to her for them both to touch. Once Hermione had taken the other end of it, Draco squeezed her a bit closer with his arm around her waist before murmuring the trigger word to activate the portkey. They disappeared from the snowy, sleepy street and left an old man who'd just gone out with the garbage staring in shock, garbage bag forgotten in hand as his jaw hung slack and he blinked several times, unable to comprehend what he'd just seen.

Many miles away, the two came into existence again seemingly in the middle of a forest clad in white, the branches heavy with snow and a majestic gate standing closed before them. Behind the gate stood Minxy the house elf who bowed to them and snapped her fingers when they came into view, making the gates swing open to let them through the heavy wards surrounding the grand mansion that had suddenly came into view. They were led along the driveway, through the entrance hall and up the stairs to the usual office, stopping outside the door for Minxy to knock. To Hermione's surprise, they could hear voices thought the hardwood.

"- _reason_?" she caught the end of a question, the muffled voice coming through the door sounding like Mr. Riddle's.

"_Because I want to, Tom_," Harry's familiar voice answered, confirming her guess as to who the other occupant was. "_They're my friends._"

Before they could hear anymore, Minxy had knocked on the door, silencing the voices on the inside. When the house elf opened the door, they found Harry sitting in one of the armchairs by the fire, Mr. Riddle standing just beside him, indicating that they had been even closer before they'd been interrupted. Red eyes turned towards the two teenagers standing in the doorway before he turned his attention to the young vampire once again.

"This will not be endangered because of your wish to remain _honest_ with your _friends_," Riddle stated coldly, his back tense.

"Don't worry, Tom," Harry answered softly, apparently not imitated by the Dark Lord before him. "They won't say a word to anyone."

"They better not," Riddle agreed before turning, swiping out of the room and forcing Draco and Hermione to move aside to let him past. In the office, Harry sighed and shook his head before turning to his friends with a smile and getting up from the armchair to hug them as greeting.

"We're not coming at a bad time, are we?" Hermione asked a bit worriedly, glancing out into the corridor, somewhat worried that Mr. Riddle would still be there, lurking just behind the corner.

"Don't worry about it, he's just a bit tetchy at the moment as he is focused on the upcoming… _thing_," Harry answered lightly, obviously stopping himself at the last moment.

"Thing?" Hermione asked with a brow raised as they sat down in the armchair, Harry conjuring a padded stool just before the fire for himself to sit at, his body relaxing visibly at the proximity of the fire as it warmed his cold being.

"Yeah, that was actually what our little argument was about," he explained, reaching his hands back towards the fire to warm them. "I want to tell you about it but he doesn't think its safe, seemingly expecting you to go to Dumbledore with the information – especially you, Hermione."

"I wouldn't do that!" she protested and Harry nodded in answer.

"_I_ know that," he reassured her. "_He's _the one with trust issues."

"Perhaps it's better for us to not know then?" Draco suggested carefully, still scared by the Dark Lord as he had grown up with stories of what the man had done during the war.

"No, I want you to know," Harry insisted, shaking his head. Then he suddenly seemed to grow unsure, and he hesitated before continuing. "Because… if something were to happen, I want you to know what it is that's happened to me."

Hermione's eyes widened and she leaned forward, immediately worried for her friend's safety and well being. "What's going to happen, Harry? You're not going to do anything dangerous, are you?"

"When does he not do dangerous things, Hermione?" Draco pointed out, but there was a slight frown between his pale brows, showing how worried he was.

Harry smiled slightly at the comment but then grew serious, clasping his hands before himself and leaning forward as if getting ready to pounce.

"We're going to break into the Ministry of Magic-," he stated, making Hermione gasp and Draco's eyes widen. "- and steal a prophesy."

Hermione wanted to ask him if he'd completely lost his mind, wanted to tell him that one didn't simply break into the Ministry of Magic, but before she could even open her mouth, Draco asked a question of his own.

"What prophesy?"

Hermione turned to stare at him in disbelief. Was that all he could think about? Did it even _matter_?

"There's a prophesy about me and Tom that was spoken before I was even born, foreseeing my birth and stating that '_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ..._'."

Staring at him in silent shock, Hermione found no words as she registered what had just been said. Once again, Draco proved to be the faster of the two, and this time, he asked the same thing that Hermione wondered.

"'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord'… _you_?" he asked and Harry nodded quietly. "Does that mean that you are the only one who can do it?"

"I don't know," Harry answered before correcting himself. "_We _don't know. Tom only knows those first two lines and that's only the beginning of the prophesy. We don't know the whole thing, so we can't say what it actually means."

"That's why you're breaking into the Ministry, then? That's the prophesy you're going to steal?" Hermione guessed, feeling slight triumph that she'd been faster then Draco this time, but the seriousness of the conversation quickly caught up with her and robbed her of the childish thoughts.

"Yes," Harry confirmed. "According to Tom, there's a room in the Department of Mysteries called the Hall of Prophesies, where copies of every prophesy ever spoken is being stored."

"But you don't just break into the Ministry of Magic, Harry! Especially not the Department of Mysteries! Do you really have to do this? You don't even believe in prophesies, do you?" Hermione asked, worry clogging up into a heavy clump in her chest.

"No, I don't believe in prophesies, Hermione," Harry agrees softly. "But Tom wants to know what it means and only those mentioned in the prophesy can actually touch it, meaning we need to be there, physically, to be able to steal it and find out what it sais."

"But _you _don't have to be there," Hermione insisted. "It would be enough if Riddle went, wouldn't it?"

"It would, but I want to go."

"What?" Hermione breathed in disbelief, ignoring Draco's quiet mumble of Gryffindor foolishness. "_Why_?"

"I can't just sit back in safety when he breaks into the Ministry, Hermione!" Harry argued fervently. "What if something happened and I wasn't there? There would be no way for me to know what's going on – I'd be beside myself with worry!"

"But it's going to be dangerous!"

"I know that," he answered softly. "Believe me, I know. Tom warned me and said that the Order is likely to show up, so there will most likely be a fight," he said, looking Hermione straight in the eyes as they widened in surprise.

"You know about the Order?" she breathed.

"Tom told me about it when he realized that I don't already know. He said that a lot of people I know are members, among them the Weasleys. Am I… am I right to assume that you're in it as well?"

"Oh, Harry!" she exclaimed, raising from the chair and throwing herself at him without caring for the risk of knocking them both into the fire as she locked her arms around him and the words that had been kept locked away rushed out of her mouth like a flood when the dam has burst. "I wanted to tell you, I really did, but Dumbledore made us promise not to, said it was for all our safety since we couldn't know who would intercept our owls! He even made us swear an oath not to tell anyone who didn't already know, and then he said we shouldn't send any letters at all because they could be tracked and then the Death Eaters would find you! I still wanted to tell you but I couldn't because of that oath, it just felt so wrong when we were all together at the Headquarters when you were left alone with the Dursley's, I know how much you hated it there! And then, when you disappeared, I thought I would never see you again and I thought I wouldn't get to tell you, I just wanted to say how sorry I am! You must have felt so abandoned the whole summer!"

She buried her face against Harry's neck, his skin warmed by the fire and soon wet from her tears, his arms encircling her in an embrace as the sobs shook her shoulders.

"Its okay, Hermione, its okay," Harry assured her, patting her on the back. "Its not your fault, I only blame Dumbledore."

Sniffling a bit, she released Harry from her bone crushing hug and dried her tears with the back of her hand, giving her closest friend a tentative smile. Since realizing that Harry and Elijah were one and the same person, she hadn't thought much about the secrets she'd been forced to keep from her friend and had mostly forgotten about the weight it had put on her heart. Now that the weight was gone and all was forgiven, she felt light as if she didn't have a care in the world.

Draco cleared his throat from behind her and she turned around to give him a sheepish smile before returning to her armchair, knowing that the Slytherin was still rather uncomfortable with the sudden and sometimes violent bursts of emotion that came with being open and not caring for what others thought as Hermione did. Now the pale blonde turned towards Harry, apparently wishing to continue their discussion as if nothing had happened, but he discreetly took Hermione's hand and gave a light squeeze before trying to let go of it again. Having none of that, the Gryffindor kept a steady grip until it was quite obvious that she wasn't going to let go, and then Draco gave a squeeze in acceptance and held her as well, long aristocratic fingers closing around her hand. He'd most likely been embarrassed by the intimate display since Harry was there with them, but Hermione couldn't see the point in trying to hide it or be discreet about it as their friend already knew about their relationship and had probably even known about its possibility before they did.

"When will the raid be?" Draco asked, his choice of words startling Hermione as she hadn't thought of it as a raid. Thinking about it, she realized that the world would indeed view it as a Death Eater raid when the news of the break in spread, and it wasn't as much the realization that surprised her as the fact that she hadn't realized it earlier. Mr. Riddle was, after all, the Dark Lord, the same man she had called You-Know-Who only months ago, and all his followers were seen as Death Eaters, meaning Harry, Draco and perhaps even she would fall under the same category if the masses of wizarding society ever found out about their alliances.

"On the morning of the 25th of December," Harry answered Draco's question, snapping Hermione from her thoughts.

"On Christmas?"

"Yes," Harry confirmed calmly. "It will be in our favour as the Ministry will be as good as unpopulated, the level of security at its lowest. It will make things a lot more simple for us and also save unnecessary casualties."

"Christmas is only five days away…" Hermione mumbled, glancing at the boys, feeling as if she needed to have some kind of confirmation to her statement even thought she was very well aware of what date it was. "So soon…"

Suddenly, she had full understanding for why Harry had chosen to go with Mr. Riddle as she realized that she would experience the same feelings of worry and anxiety. She knew that this wouldn't be the first time Harry would be in grave danger, knew that he could take care of himself and that luck tended to be on his side. Still, she wasn't used to be left behind, wondering, as she usually came along and fought beside him, if not the whole way then at least partly. The important thing was that she was always _there_, always supporting and helping him as far as she could, and this time she wouldn't be able to do that at all. Not to mention that their previous experiences with such things now seemed to be on a whole different level, as the involvement of the Oder and the fact that they were going to _break into the Ministry _made it all seem all the more real and dangerous. The possibility of being caught and thrown into Azkaban, _again_, was very real this time, and perhaps they would decide that imprisonment wouldn't be enough. She paled at the thought and shook her head.

"If I can't talk you into staying here, then I'm coming with you!" she said, her determination clear in her voice and a hint of desperation in her eyes.

"What?" Harry exclaimed. "No!"

Beside her, Draco was shaking his head, apparently agreeing with Harry, and she glared at him for not supporting her in this even though she logically understood why he didn't.

"Yes, I am!" she insisted. "I can't stand the thought of sitting ignorant in safety, either! What if something happens to you? What if the Order captures you? You could end up in Azkaban again!"

"His true identity could be revealed," Draco pointed out, looking torn as if he wasn't sure whose side he was on. He seemed to think that it was too dangerous for either of them to go, but especially didn't think Hermione should put herself in danger.

"Don't worry, Hermione – nothing's going to happen! I'm not going to participate in the real battle, just stay on the sidelines and see to it so that nothing actually happens to Tom," Harry answered, obviously trying to placate her to convince her to stay safe.

"Then I can do the same!"

"No, Hermione. The risk that one of the Death Eaters send a hex at you is too big – we can't risk that!"

The argument surprised her as she had somewhat expected that threat to be gone. If she was allied to the Dark Lord, then surely his followers couldn't do her any harm?

Sitting before the fire, Harry sighed, his expression softening in understanding. "They hate muggleborns, at least most of them, and if they thought they could hex you without anyone noticing, then they'll surely take that chance."

"You don't trust them?" she found herself asking, and the very moment the words left her mouth, she realized what a stupid question it was. Of course the Death Eaters couldn't be trusted and if it hadn't been for her Gryffindor way of thinking regarding allies and loyalties, she'd never have expected them to be trustable.

"No, I don't," Harry confirmed. "But I trust Tom."

Closing her eyes, she realized that if Mr. Riddle wouldn't be able to protect Harry, then there was nothing she could do. The danger had increased and for this, Harry had been trained by the Dark Lord himself, a training she knew would be good for him now even thought he'd complained about it quite a few times. He'd told her of some of the things he'd learnt and it was all magic on a higher level then what they'd ever been taught at Hogwarts, meaning that Harry had developed beyond her. The realization hurt, and she badly wanted to deny the knowledge of them no longer being equals when it came to fighting, but she quickly saw that such equality had perhaps never existed.

When she opened her eyes, there was a sheen of tears turning them glossy, but she wouldn't allow those tears to fall. As she nodded and admitted defeat, she swore to herself that she, too, would train and become stronger until she could stand by Harry's side and fight with him as an equal in battle.

**After three weeks of experiencing Japan and no writing whatsoever, it was kind of hard to get into the story again. Still, I hope you found this chapter to be satisfactory! :)**

**Now, since English isn't my first language (as I'm sure you've noticed), I sometimes run into linguistic problems when writing and find that I simply don't have the words for some things. Therefore, I wish to ask my English-speaking readers if you can say "He really seems to be a true catch" and if it means what I think it means, namely that she'd gotten someone that seemed really good? Another alternative I got when searching the net for answers was "bargain", but saying that "he really seems to be a true bargain" made it feel as if she'd gotten him cheaply… Help? :)**


	42. Chapter 42

**Thanks again for all the great reviews I've received! You all really are incredible, and you should see my silly grin when I read what you've written to me! :D Feedback really gets a new meaning with you guys! 3**

He knew that the bed was the same as usual, the mattress and pillows just as soft and comfortable, the sheets just as silken against his naked skin, yet it felt somewhat lumpy, the pillow making his neck ache and the cover too heavy and restricting while the sheets twisted around his limbs like ropes and chains, restraining and caging. Turning over, he tried to find some other position he hadn't already tried, one that would let him lay comfortably enough to fall asleep, but the crackling from the hearth was too loud and the firelight dancing over the ceiling suddenly seemed intimidating, even thought it was no different from the shifting lights that he had watched many nights previously while falling asleep. In spite of the bedding encasing him and the fire burning steadily, he was too cold, feeling as if the windows were wide open to let the raging snowstorm into the room.

Tomorrow – or rather, later today as Harry was quite sure that the clock had already ticked past midnight – they would break into the Ministry and the Department of Mysteries to steal the prophesy about him and Tom. It would be his first raid ever, the first time to stand by Tom's side in battle even thought he himself wouldn't fight if he could avoid it. When he had stated that he wouldn't fight it had seemed to be the simple and obvious choice, but would he even be able to choose? If he tried to stay close to Tom as he had imagined himself doing, then they were bound to end up in the middle of the battle, and then the choice of staying at the sidelines as the uninvolved bystander wouldn't be a possibility. He would have to fight, and fighting no longer entailed tripping hexes and _expelliarmus_ but curses and spells that held the purpose to hurt, destroy and _kill_, meaning that whoever he fought against would use the same spells with the same intention. The possibility of dying suddenly seemed all the more real, especially since he hadn't even thought of it before, and he started wondering if he would really be able to handle this. Sure, he'd been in dangerous and life threatening situations before, but never quite like this and whatever had been the circumstances, he'd always believed himself to be doing the right thing. It shouldn't make any difference, but the knowledge that he'd been doing the right thing had always been some kind of mental support that made him think nothing bad could happen because the good always won in the end. This time, he wouldn't be "the good" and his actions wouldn't be rightful and just. The realization felt as if the floor had disappeared underneath his feet to drop him into a dark abyss, and the loss of the mental support that rightfulness had given him made him uncertain.

The door to the office opened, spreading a widening rectangle of light over the bedroom floor and Harry threw the covers off to sit up, knowing he must look rather frantic when Tom's red gaze met his own emeralds. The man had sent Harry to sleep early, reminding him that they would be up early the next morning and that Harry would need all the sleep he could get while he himself had stayed up in the office, doing something unknown to Harry that was no doubt important for the raid. Sleeping had obviously not worked for Harry, however, as he had started thinking of the raid and all the things that could go wrong as soon as his mind found itself unoccupied. When he realized that he would be unable to sleep as Tom had advised him to, that in itself had made him more desperate and upset as if gave him new scenarios of being tired and sluggish during the battle because of lack of sleep.

Tom closed the door behind him as he stepped into the room, closing out the light and leaving the bedroom dark except for the light of the burning fire. Harry watched quietly as the man walked up to the bed, the teenaged vampire's seeing unhindered by the lacking light in the room as he watched Tom remove his robes and throw them casually over the back of the divan, leaving him in slacks and a bottom up shirt that Harry always thought made him look far too muggle. The mattress dipped when Tom sat down on the edge of it with is back to Harry, unbuttoning his shirt with nimble fingers as he spoke.

"Are you unable to sleep, Harry?"

The teen shifted and crawled over the uneven terrain of the bed and blankets as to sit just behind Tom so that he could pull the shirt off him once all bottoms were undone, the shirt ending up on the floor in the general direction of the divan, the young vampire completely unaware that he'd missed his goal as he leaned forward against the strong, warm back and wrapped his arm around Tom's waist, needing the reassurance of closeness. They sat silently for a moment, and while Harry could feel himself calming just from being close to Tom, the panicked thoughts wouldn't stop whirling around in his head, bouncing against the inside of his skull now and then, creating a disturbance that he couldn't possibly sleep with.

"What if something goes wrong? What if something happens? Someone could be hurt, or- or die!" he whispered against Tom's back, barely daring to say the words as if voicing his concerns made them more likely to be fulfilled.

Warm hands took his arms and loosened the grip he had around Tom's waist, enabling the man to turn around and get onto the bed fully to lean over the distressed teen, red eyes watching him in the darkness. The warm hands moved to his shoulders, stroking his shoulder blades, neck and biceps, rubbing calmingly and pressing slightly to make him lay back down against the pillows. The hands moved to his torso, stroking their way down his chest to his sides, one hand staying to run soothing circles on his stomach, the other moving to his forehead, stroking his black bangs out of the way. With his simple touches and soft caresses, Tom banished the cold and enveloped him in comfortable and relaxing warmth, his body loosing its tenseness and melting into the mattress.

"Some will surely be hurt," Tom said, his breath ghosting over Harry's cheek. "Some will likely die."

The words made him tense up again, and his eyes flicked uncertainly to give Tom a searching look. The red gaze med his steadily, not even the slightest hint of worry in their depths – not that Harry had expected there to be any. Still, the words worried him.

"But it won't be us, my little vampire. It won't be us," Tom finished, his lips latching on to the side of Harry's neck and sucking, working expertly to mark and claim, making Harry gasp as he turned his head to the side to give the man better access as he threw his arms round his neck, fingers curling in dark hair and scraping over a shoulder. The teen squirmed, feeling his body awakening under the attention, and then those warm hands were moving again, setting him on fire as they touched and felt him everywhere, comfortable warmth turning into flushed heat that rushed through his veins. He squeezed his eyes shut, only to open then again when the lips left his neck, the purple and red bruise already fading while Tom leaned his own head to the side, baring his neck to the now hungry gaze of the young vampire beneath him. The teen needed nothing more then the silent invitation as he angled his head and set his lips to Tom's neck, the sweet, rich blood pounding underneath the skin. Smoothly piercing the skin after a few quick swipes of the tongue, he sucked mouthfuls of blood, the taste exploding in his mouth and making him moan.

"Drink, my little vampire, my Harry. You might need the extra strength tomorrow," Tom said quietly, his hands moving lower until they found the most aching, heated part of Harry, gripping and stroking and touching all the right places until Harry could no longer drink more, retracting his teeth to press his forehead against Tom's neck and he clung to him, his breathing fast and panting, moans spilling over open lips. Then the moment came when Tom's touch undid him and he gasped and clutched at a strong shoulder, knowing by the smell that he was drawing blood with his harsh grip but unable to care as all thoughts were chased from his mind to leave him floating in blissful nothingness, his body heavy and tingling. He felt the cool touch of a cleaning spell and then Tom's hand on his forehead again, making his eyes flutter shut.

"Sleep now," Tom said softly, his voice disappearing as the heavy folds of sleep wrapped themselves around Harry and sent him off to the lands of the unknowing.

XXX

Brown eyes opened to a dark room, sleepily taking in the stripes of light crossing the opposite wall, caused by the pale, silvery moonlight that slipped thought the lamellas of the blinds that covered the single window over the bed. Sitting up, she separated the lamellas to take a look at the white outside world of little cottages where they lived at the skiing resort, their skis and poles sticking up from a heap of snow where they'd left them. Rubbing a hand over her face, she turned away from the window, wondering what had woken her as their little cottage was silent except from the soft snores from her father sleeping next door.

Fumbling over the nightstand with a hand, she found her mobile which she seldom used since it lay forgotten at home during the school year, and picking it up she clicked it on to check the time.

04:29  
December 25

Her stomach seemed to drop, leaving a empty hole in her belly that seemed to absorb her sleepiness completely, leaving her wide awake with worry gnawing at her. Scooting back to sit comfortably with her back against the headboard, she sent a thought to her friend, hoping he was okay and that all would be fine.

XXX

The room stopped spinning and Harry found himself taking a step to the side to balance himself as the momentum of the motion wished for him to continue moving even as the highly polished floor came to a rather abrupt stop, the teen blinking rapidly a few times to rid of his sudden disorientation, a nagging thought in his mind wondering if the floor had really moved at all or if the walls had rotated instead. The fact that he seemed to be the only one unbalanced among the men and women gathered in black robes with blank masks hiding their identities, made the theory seem quite plausible. In spite of their masks, he could see quite a few of them sneering in his direction, no doubt finding his behaviour undignified and thinking him unworthy of his close relationship to _their Lord_. The frightened respect that he had earned when they'd found out that he's a vampire had quickly diminished when his behaviour didn't prove to be much different from that of any other teenager, and Harry worriedly wondered if he would be safe among their ranks or if he would have to watch out for attacks from both side should – or rather, _when _– the Order showed up.

So far, things had gone smoothly as Mr. Malfoy's connections and the knowledge about the Department of Mysteries that a Death Eater named Rookwood had provided had made the so called break in quite easy – actually, they hadn't done much more then walk in, something Malfoy was apparently to thank for if Tom's nod of silent approval to the man was anything to go by. The calm and quiet of the deserted Ministry didn't seem to put the Death Eaters at ease, however, as they all seemed twitchy and impatient, hoping that their chance to shed some blood would come sooner rather than later. Having thought that he would find reassurance in the smooth progression, Harry found himself more worried and uneasy than ever, the calm giving him time to think and wonder if it was all just a bluff, if Aurors and Unspeakables would ambush them after having lured them into a false sense of ease. After all, something_ had to be_ wrong – you did not simply walk into the Ministry, especially not when accompanied by the Dark Lord and his most trusted Death Eaters.

As it was, he had a bad feeling about the whole thing and fear was slowly creeping up on him, embedding its sharp claws firmly in his chest and making him wish that he had stayed home in the safety of the Mansion. He knew that he would have been beside himself with worry had he stayed behind, but as it was now he feared that he would be the one to cause problems as fear and unease made him jumpy, making him wonder where his famous Gryffindor courage was when he needed it. Then again, he reasoned as he tried to justify his own presence at the raid, it might be good that his Gryffindor courage was absent since it usually made him do rash things such a rushing into unknown dangers without a second thought. Instead, he was quite content to stand by Tom's shoulder, the man's infamous wand in a loose grip between long fingers no more then half a metre from Harry. The close proximity calmed and reassured the vampire within, thus giving Harry a slight sense of safety even though it was far from enough to ban his anxiety completely.

Except for the ease with which they'd broken into the Ministry, the second biggest cause for Harry's unease was quite… physical, namely the Death Eaters as they were spread out around the room with Harry and Tom close to the middle, consequently making it inevitable that some of the Dark followers would always be behind his back, making it impossible to keep track of them all at the same time. Thinking that he would feel a lot safer if only the Death Eaters could stay in front of them so that he could see them all, Harry glanced behind his shoulder as inconspicuously as possibly as he didn't want to make his fright obvious to the men and women in dark robes, seeing as they were like predators, able to smell his fear and turn it against him as an exploitable weakness. He was trying to keep track of one Death Eater specifically, seeing as she seemed to have something against him and her madness made her unreliable and unpredictable, which made him suspect that being close to Tom both physically and by relationship wouldn't stop the woman should she decide that he was better off dead. He found her quickly enough seeing as she was the only Death Eater not wearing a mask, leaving her face unhidden for identification, dark eyes glaring at Harry with contempt and a sneer on her lips as she was quite obviously dissatisfied with his closeness to Tom, making the teen suspect that the woman would much rather see herself being the one by the Dark Lord's side. Fortunately she had positioned herself on the opposite side of Tom, standing a bit away with her hateful gaze fastened on Harry, her position allowing the teen to keep track of her from the corner of his eye so that he wouldn't have to worry about getting a hex to the back without some kind of warning – at least not from her.

Movement to his right made Harry turn his attention from Bellatrix Lestrange to the Death Eater called Rookwood who apparently knew the layout of the department as he purposefully stepped up to one of the many doors filling the walls of the circular room. As far as Harry could see, there was nothing about the door that set it apart from the others, nothing to betray the door's secret as to what rested on the other side, yet Rookwood grabbed the handle and opened the door confidently and without hesitancy. Stepping aside to hold the door open and bow to the Dark Lord, Rookwood revealed a long corridor that stretched onwards into the dusk that seemed to reign over the room, shelves rising from the floor and stretching towards the high ceiling on either side of the cleared walk in the middle, more narrow paths leading off to the sides between the looming shelves that seemed to tower over them in a intimidating manner as Harry walked into the room after Tom. Unfortunately, Tom had decided to take the lead now that they were close to their destination, meaning that all the Death Eaters, Bellatrix Lestrange included, were at their backs, following them in relative silence, a twitching, impatient mass of murderers waiting for their chance to spill blood.

Quickening his steps a bit until he was practically walking _on _Tom, wanting to put as much distance between himself and the Death Eaters as possible without walking past the Dark Lord, he drew the attention of the red gaze and got a dark brow raised in question. Glancing back towards the Dark followers behind them, Harry quickly turned his focus forward again even as he tried to listen for anyone trying sneak up on him from behind while shaking his head at Tom's unvoiced question, knowing that he might as well dig his own grave before he told the man that he was scared of the Death Eaters since he was sure that the black-robed people behind them would hear. Admitting one's fear to the enemy was never advisable, Harry thought as he once again glanced backwards while they walked along the path between the high shelves.

His gaze moved to the side to slip over the old wooden shelves, some of which looked like they were rotten enough to fall apart over them at any moment, the shelves lined with what seemed to be glass orbs in different sizes, some murky as if aged, others clearer and sparkling merrily. Under the orbs, hanging from the front of the shelf were pieces of paper, their varying discolouration matching that of the orb, names and initials of names scribbled onto the parchment, supposedly holding some kind of meaning that eluded Harry completely. On the sides of the shelves there were plaques with numbers, Tom's red gaze wandering over them as he apparently used them to navigate the room, the rest of them following obediently behind.

To Harry, it felt as if they walked there forever, his body tense as he tried to detect any sight of attack from the Death Eaters without having to look back and reveal his fright, bit it really didn't take long before Tom left the central path and turned into one of the more narrow paths, this one running between the shelves marked a 99 and 97. They came to a stop just a few steps later, most of the Death Eaters still out in the wider, central corridor between the shelves, and Harry looked up at Tom to ask why they had stopped when he noticed that the man's whole attention was fixed onto something. Turning to follow the man's intent gaze, Harry saw one of the many orbs sitting on the shelf before them, its insides a bit murky and the sparkle slightly faded with age, yet it was clearly not as old as some of the orbs they had walked past. He couldn't see any reason to why that particular orb would be special, however, and so didn't understand why Tom seemed so interested in it.

"Sybill Patricia Trelawney to Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore," Tom murmured under his breath, so quietly that only Harry could hear him. "The Dark Lord and Harry Potter."

Harry blinked in confusion, wondering what Tom was talking about, and then he saw it, the note on the front of the shelf where the initials S.P.T and A.P.W.B.D were scribbled before mentioning Harry and Tom. But why? Why would anyone write their names on a…

"The prophesy," he breathed in sudden comprehension as he stared wide-eyed at the orb before them, for a moment forgetting his unease and fright. He watched the little sparkles with fascination, realizing that the one thing that had shaped his whole life up until this point now sat before him, so easily within reach, close enough for him to touch. He didn't realize that he'd leaned forward and reached out to do just that until his fingers touched the smooth surface of cool glass, making his stop uncertainly. Glancing towards Tom, he found the man nodding for him to continue, red eyes focussed onto the orb that soon rested in Harry's hands, the mist inside swirling as he turned it over and the sparkles seemingly dancing on an impossible wind inside.

A red yet shot past Harry's head, narrowly missing him and hitting the shelf instead, shattering two prophesies still on the shelf and setting their contents free, translucent spectres rising from the shards and announcing their separate prophesies simultaneously, making it impossible to hear what they said. The moment of spellbound fascination was brutally broken and chaos erupted, the room filling with shouted spells and curses, the crash of smashed prophesies when spells missed their target and the chanting of vague forms raising from the remains of shattered orbs. The centremost path was suddenly filled with people, both familiar and unfamiliar to Harry, fighting the Death Eaters with the same power that had driven Harry for so many years – the power of righteousness, of fighting for the good to overcome the evil of the world. A pang of loss pierced his heart, leaving him momentarily immobile until Tom showed him out of the way of a curse, unwittingly knocking him into one of the shelves and destroying more prophesies in the process.

"Go!" Tom ordered, his ruby eyes angry yet with a spark of protectiveness as he glanced at Harry before turning away to ward off another hex aimed their way. "Go to the Atrium! From there, you can floo to safety – take the prophesy with you!"

Hesitating for a moment, he glanced at Tom who stood with is wand raised, Death Eaters and Order members fighting before him. Harry could see McGonagall and Arthur Weasley who must be from the Order, and there was Sirius, and Remus Lupin fighting together with the animagi, and Moody looking as if he wouldn't want to be anywhere else in the world as he utilized slightly darker curses than the rest of the Order members, a dark smile on his mangled face. Even though Harry had been so sure of his decision, the teenaged vampire realized that he didn't want to be there, didn't want to see his friends fight against the Death Eaters. It made him feel like a traitor, and he wanted to throw himself into the battle with all his Gryffindor courage and help them, but at the same time, he was utterly unwilling to move away from the protective shadow of Tom. Tom, whom he'd come for, whom he'd said he would stay close to so that nothing would happen to him while Harry remained ignorant.

Realizing that he would end up being unable to do anything at all, much less help either side as he was unwilling to use to Dark spells Tom had taught him, Harry gripped the orb of the prophesy in one hand and his wand in the other. Throwing a last glance at Tom, he received a firm nod in response and without waiting any longer, he turned and ran from the ongoing battle, the shelves with prophesies on either side of him becoming fast passing blurs as he dashed down the path, determined to get the prophesy safely back to the Mansion as Tom had told him to.

"Hey, there's that kid!" someone shouted from behind, and Harry cursed quietly as he ran.

"He's got the prophesy – don't let him get away!" someone else shouted, the words followed by the sound of pursuing feet coming from the other side of the shelf as whoever was following had wisely decided that it would be fruitless trying to get past Tom.

The shattering of glass on his right was the only warning he got before a red spell shot through the shelf towards him, bringing with it shards of glittering glass. Throwing himself to the side, he barely managed to avoid the spell but felt the glass shards bite into the side of his face. Scrambling to regain his footing, he shot forward again, running with his body kept low to the ground, his wand trained to the side.

"_Stupefy_!" he shouted but the lack of thud from a fallen body told him that he'd missed.

"_Confrigo_!" someone else shouted, the voice sounding as if it came from further back than the ones that were almost beside him, and an explosion of flames erupted on the other side of the shelf, licking at the wood hungrily. Someone cursed and an agumenti was cast, and then they were after him again.

Seeing the end of the shelves and the open path that seemed to lead along the wall, Harry realized that he couldn't go there with his pursuers so close seeing as they would end up being right behind him once on the crossing path, and he quickly cast an bombarda to the side, making the lower part of the shelf and its orbs explode, the rest of the shelf crashing down and hopefully blocking the pursuers' path. Coming out onto the path along the wall, he decided to turn left and away from the entrance they had come through as he would have to cross the pursuers' path if he went the other way, and so he took off in the other direction, hoping that there would be some alternative way for him to take.

A stinging hex caught his leg and made him stumble, gritting his teeth against the brief pain as he clutched the prophesy to his chest so as not to drop it. Throwing a look over his shoulder, he saw Sirius climb hastily over the wreckage of the shelf Harry had destroyed, an unknown woman with bubblegum hair already running after him. He'd put some distance between them, but it wouldn't be enough, and when the woman sent a curse in his direction, he threw himself to the side, into an open path running between the shelves. Without thinking before hand, he threw himself in between two of the open shelves, pushing and crushing prophesies with his body as he went, ignoring the glass piercing his skin when he came out into the next path and continued on down the path a few metres before he repeated the action of throwing himself through the shelves to emerge onto the other side.

_Why did Sirius of all people have to take chase? _he thought desperately as he continued running, following one of the paths and carelessly throwing spells backwards without aim to destroy shelves and hinder the path for Sirus and the woman. Glancing over his shoulder again he saw two Order members running after him, and further back still, he could se Bellatrix Lestrange coming after them along with two other Death Eaters who's names Harry had forgotten. Turning forwards again, he saw an unfamiliar Order member running towards him with his wand raised, and he barely managed to throw himself to the side and through the shelf onto the parallel path before being struck by a curse. Glass and wooden splinters seemed to rain down over him as the Order member used the same trick as he had, destroying the shelves to try to hinder his path.

Up ahead he could see Remus Lupin, looking as tired and worn as ever as he duelled a Death Eater, his identity hidden by the anonymous mask that covered his face. Hoping that they'd be too caught up in their duel to notice him, he exploded out onto the main path and careered into Remus, accidentally showing him out of the way from one of the Death Eater's curses. Amber eyes blinked up at him in surprise but Harry didn't pause before darting away around the just as surprised Death Eater, continuing down the main path and belatedly realizing that he was running away from the door through which they'd entered. Hopefully it wouldn't matter as he saw another door up ahead and he ran towards it while ducking spells and sending a few curses of his own back over his shoulder, a grunt telling him that at least one of this hexes had hit a target.

Reaching the door, he was relieved to find it open and quickly threw it closed behind him again, locking it with a quick locking charm. He barely spared a glance at the room around him with its many trinkets on shelves on the walls and a big clock standing against one wall. Jumping over a table he found another door and threw it open. On the other side, he found McGonagall and a big, dark-skinned man duel against Avery who seemed to have lost his mask, the two Order members looking up to see Harry just as he heard the other door explode behind him. Seeing as his chance of retreat was cut off, he threw himself into the rectangular room and ducked behind the large tank with some green solution that seemed to be the only thing the room held, using it as a barrier to hide behind. His breath came in shallow pants and his heart was beating wildly in his chest after all the running, adrenaline pumping through his veins and dulling the pain of glass and wooden splinters that bit into his skin.

Leaning to the side to try to see the Order members around the corner of the tank, he saw something move in the corner of his eye and startled, turning quickly to look through the glass into the green liquid. Staring in disgusted horror, he saw brains swim through the solution and then the side of the tank shattered under a spell and he dodged to the side, brains spilling onto the floor and green liquid spreading over the stone to soak into his clothes. The brains squirmed on the ground, tendrils reaching out towards Harry as if to grab him. Jumping up, he aimed a hex at the woman with bubblegum hair and then turned the other way, finding an already open door and sprinting to it. Just as he reached it, two masked Death Eaters came through the doorway, blocking his path. Not really thinking about what he was doing, he blasted one of them back into the room they had come from and ran in after the falling Death Eater, the man skidding across the floor and dropping down what seemed to be stairs leading downward towards a pit where a single archway stood in the middle, a torn cloth billowing in it as if moved by the wind.

The Death Eater still standing in the doorway gave an enraged cry and turned to aim his wand at Harry, who threw himself down the stairs for cover. A stupefy dealt with the Dark follower and then Sirius burst thought the door, quickly followed by Remus and the woman with bubblegum hair. Sirius, always the hot-headed one and most likely spurred on by the instincts of a dog hunting its prey, immediately set off after Harry while Remus and the woman stayed by the door to fight Bellatrix and the other Death Eaters who'd followed them, the upper stairs in the room soon littered by wizards and witches duelling. Throwing up a protego against Sirius's curse, Harry ran down the stairs towards the middle of the room, hoping that he would be able to hide behind the platform that the archway stood on. Sirius was hot on his heals, sending curse after curse after him, forcing him to turn and aim a curse of his own at the man. Loosing his footing when he no longer looked ahead, he found himself tumbling down the stairs, his body curled around the orb in his hand to protect it as he hit the floor, feeling sore and aching after bouncing against the stone steps.

His breath knocked out of him from the fall, he gasped and managed to scrambled in behind the platform, quickly throwing a curse towards Sirius who didn't bother with trying to take cover as he instead jumped up onto the platform while sending off continuous curses in a steady attack. Harry answered the offence as well as he could but the man was good and quite obviously far more experienced with duelling then Harry was. The teen really didn't want to cause any harm to his godfather no matter if said godfather was the one attacking or not since Sirius only knew that he was fighting the Dark Lord's vampire, Elijah Spring. The man's skill, however, soon forced Harry to start using the darker and more dangerous curses that Tom had taught him, if only to keep the man at a relative distance.

Chaos was all around them, Order members and Death Eaters fighting each other, and Harry realized that his cover would soon be useless as the battle spread around the room, a few duelling pairs coming around to fight behind his back where he wouldn't be able to look out for spells coming his way. He saw Tom duelling several Order members seemingly effortlessly on the other side of the room and allowed himself a moment of relief that the man was still unharmed before a new attack from Sirius forced him to turn his full focus to the man. A reducto hit the platform just by Harry's head and he ducked to the side as the stone exploded, as chunk of the platform blasted away from the rest. The force of the explosion sent him over the floor and into the lowest step, the air once again leaving his lungs as his back hit the stone.

Sirius raised his wand, a rather triumphant grin on his face, no doubt seeing that he was close to defeating his opponent when a spell suddenly hit him in the side, making him topple sideways. Harry stared in wide-eyed disbelief when Sirius stumbled, reaching for the side of the archway for support and then falling into it, grey eyes meeting temporarily blue ones. Somehow knowing beyond doubt that he would never see his godfather again if the man disappeared behind the black curtain, that no one could ever return after having fallen through the veil, Harry jumped to his feet and started towards him, reaching out as if to catch the man and pull him back out even thought the distance between them was far too great.

"_Sirius_!" he screamed desperately, his voice drowned out by the surrounding battle. The grey eyes of his godfather widened in surprise and a spark of recognition came to life within them, his lips moving around vowels and consonants that Harry couldn't hear yet they were carried to him with impossibly clarity.

_Harry._

Then he was gone. The black curtain fluttered, then settled into place again as if nothing had happened, and Sirius was gone.

The prophesy in his hand fell from slack fingers, suddenly unimportant and unnoticed as the dim spectre rose from the remains beside Harry, its words unheard through the chaos. Harry didn't even register that he no longer held the smooth glass in his hand, his eyes locked onto the veil through which his godfather had disappeared. A few years ago, Sirius had been his one and only hope of escaping the Dursleys and his godfather had taken on the role of a substitute father, if yet a playful one who barely knew the meaning of the word responsibility. Of course Harry had known that they could never share that kind of connection again now that he had turned to Tom and become the enemy, but he'd never thought that they would never meet again, that he wouldn't have the chance to see Sirius and talk to him again.

A maniacal, triumphant laughter broke him from his thoughts and he turned to stare blankly at Bellatrix Lestrange who stood on the other side of the room on some of the lower steps, her wand still raised and a smirk on her lips.

"I killed Sirius Black! I killed Sirius Black!" she shouted with glee, the words slowly penetrating the stunned blankness of Harry's mind. His blue eyes darkened and any trace of innocent dullness left his gaze as red hot rage and black, murderous intent took its place. He clenched his wand harshly, his knuckles turning white as he aimed at the gleefully laughing woman performing a little dance of victory while shooting off curses in random directions. The shattering hex that he'd trained on the black, smooth stone egg left the tip of his wand wordlessly, the spell going straight for the madwoman with the purpose of turning her into pieces of flesh and bone. Dancing around, dark eyes caught sight of the curse in the last moment and she threw up a shield and ducked to the side, the stone steps where she'd been standing a moment previously turning to dust by the force of the curse.

Finding Harry, those dark eyes widened and her smirk turned into a sneer.

"Turning on your own now, Spring?" she shouted, goading him as Harry steadily walked closer. "Finally showing your true colours, are you? We all knew that you weren't truly loyal to out Lord! You're nothing but a _whore_!"

She dodged the next curse as well and then her eyes brightened when a stray curse went straight for Harry, unnoticed by the teen whose full attention was focussed onto the woman before him. Lestrange cackled giddily when Harry made no move to defend himself against the fast approaching danger, and then the curse seemed to explode against an invisible shield, her laugh ending abruptly as Harry's magic rose around him to defend him. Her surprise made her reactions slow and Harry's shredding curse caught her wandarm, cloth and flesh shredding and twisting, blood pouring down her arm to coat slack fingers, her wand clattering to the floor and rolling down the steps, away from her as she hollered in pain. When her gaze turned to him again the glee had left her eyes and the sneer was gone from her lips, replaced by horror as she realized that she was utterly and truly defenceless – and he was still steadily approaching. Turning her back to him, she fled, scrambling up the steps as quickly as possible with her injured arm clutched to her body as she tried to put distance between them, and Harry followed her with determination of cold rage.

The hunt was on.

His anger and sorrow had turned into a simmering mix of cold and ruthless determination, clearing his mind of thoughts and hesitation, allowing him to concentrate fully on the fleeing woman before him as his accidental magic formed a barrier of protection around him. Lestrange was scrambling up the steps, crawling and climbing and falling, dodging stray curses and zigzagging between duelling witches and wizards, her wounded arm hindering her and slowing her pace as she couldn't use it to steady herself, making her stumble clumsily. With his steady progress and magic defending him, Harry was gaining on her, the only thing keeping distance between them being Lestrange's fear which gave her speed and pushed her to keep going. He could easily take her out as she had no means of defending herself against a spell to the back, yet he simply kept on going, watching coldly as his prey fled, finding a dark satisfaction in her fear and pitiful attempts to save herself.

When she reached the top of the stairs there were only a few metres between them and she immediately started running towards the door. Harry was quick to match her pace yet kept the distance so that she would hold onto hope and continue with her desperate flight. From room to room they went, the strange trinkets and destruction of earlier fights passing unnoticed to Harry, and then they were in the circular, spinning room again, the doors left open and thus preventing the room from moving, allowing them to pass straight through without the disorientation of the moving walls. Harry vaguely wondered where the witch was headed as he was growing bored with simply following, an itch inside urging him to cause further pain, to let his pent up anger and frustration loose and direct it at Lestrange, to see her suffer and then…

They ended up in the Atrium, the vast entrance hall of the Ministry opening up before them with its polished stone floors and banners and posters decorating the walls and hanging from the high ceiling with moving pictures of smiling and waving candidates hoping to take Fudge's place as Minister of Magic in the upcoming election. The witches and wizards in the pictures followed Bellatrix Lestrange with their eyes as she ran towards the closest fireplace, her unharmed arm reaching towards the pot of floo powder on the mantelpiece, hope sparking in her eyes as her escape came within reach.

The crucio hit her squarely in the back, hard and unforgiving, her flailing arm hitting the pot and sending it crashing to the floor, floo powder spreading uselessly over the stone as she screamed herself hoarse and writhed in pain, limbs bending unnaturally and back arching up from the floor. When the curse ended, Harry stood over her, watching her sob and pant and shake and tremble with cold satisfaction in his blue eyes and a slight, almost serene smile on his lips, as if the forbidden action he had just carried out had given him peace. To be honest, he didn't really feel anything as he watched her fearful, pleading eyes, and he knew that that should scare him, knew that some months ago, he wouldn't have been able to cause harm in such a way. He should feel guilty, should be sick with himself for doing something like that, should regret his actions and seek a way to redeem himself, most likely by sacrificing himself for the sake of someone else. He knew that and decided that he didn't care.

"_Plea_-"

A couple of well known, feared words, a whip of his wand and a green yet of light, and the light left her eyes, her body falling slack on the floor by his feet. He looked down at her disinterestedly, distantly wondering why she'd tried to plead. He hadn't wanted to hear her plead for her life and he vaguely wondered if she'd really thought it would help, seeing as she'd been the one aiming the curcio most of the time.

Then the impact of a powerful spell hit him in the back and the world went black.

**University has begun as of this week, so I won't have as much free time as before, meaning I won't be able to write as much… Not to mention the fact that life is a bitch and everything seems to be against me planning to study at the moment, so the next update… well, you'll know when I'll update once I've gone it ^^'**


	43. Chapter 43

**Apparently I'm a monster for ending the last chapter where I ended it, so I hope I can make up for my horrid actions with this last chapter ;) **

Awareness returned suddenly as if nothingness was extinguished and reality snapped into being in a moment. He was sitting in a chair, ropes wrapped around his upper body and arms, tying him to the back of the chair and keeping his body upright. His head had fallen forward limply in a weak, defeated position, causing his neck to ache uncomfortably. Ticking and puffing and little chimes were ringing, the strange sounds filling the otherwise silent room and letting Harry know where he was. Remaining perfectly still so as to let whoever else was in the room think that he was still unconscious, he strained his hearing to try to hear past the broken melody of trinkets and odd machines that he knew to be spread about the room as he hoped to determine if he was alone or not. Nothing could be heard except for the strange sounds of trinkets, not even the fake snores and steady chatter from the portraits of previous headmasters, and Harry decided that his only chance of finding out if he was truly alone or not would be to see for himself.

Opening his eyes just a bit to peer out from underneath dark lashes, the position of his head gave him a view of his lap that really wasn't all that useful. His robes were dusty and full of holes and tears, smudges of blood barely visible on the dark garment from where pieces of glass and wooden splinters had hurt him when the shelves had exploded overhead or he'd thrown himself bodily through a shelf. Although he felt a bit sore and weary, he felt otherwise uninjured, letting him know that the advanced healing that came with being a vampire had taken care of his wounds.

Letting his gaze leave his lap he peered upwards to try to see at least part of the room and found himself peek through the fringe that fell into his eyes, making his whole body tense up and his eyes widen. The fringe was black, meaning that his glamour had been removed. Since the spell that had robbed him of his consciousness had come from behind he had been unable to see who his attacker was but his present location made it quite easy to guess and if _he_ knew who Harry really was… Realizing that his last protection in the shape of Elijah Spring had left him made him feel more vulnerable then being tied to a chair did and he forgot caution as he raised his head to look around with new urgency.

What he saw only confirmed what the sounds of the trinkets had already told him, namely that he was in Dumbledore's office at Hogwarts, the circular room looking much the same as it had done when Harry had last been there except for the fact that the portraits on the walls were all vacated, explaining why no overdramatic snoring could be heard. With even the old headmasters gone he did seem to be completely alone in the office and immediately tried to free himself, straining against the bonds tying him to the chair and squirming back and forth to loosen their tight hold. Nothing seemed to help, however, and the effort only served to tire him further, his weary body telling him to lean back and rest. Luckily the blood thirst had yet to rear its head, allowing him to think rationally, but he assumed that it would show up sooner or later since he had pressed his body pretty hard at the Ministry and then his body had taken care of healing him when he was unconscious. There couldn't be much left of his energy.

Rolling his head to the side, his neck popped satisfactory, ridding him of the worst ache.

What to do now? There was a slim chance that he would be able to break the bonds wandlessly, but the chance the he would succeed was next to nothing since Dumbledore was a far stronger wizard then he was. His wild accidental magic could probably free him but since it was _wild and accidental_ he had never tried to use it on purpose and had no idea how to access it. It only ever seemed to come alive when he experienced some extreme emotion such as anger of fear, and while he could probably rile himself up and become angry, he couldn't control what his magic would do.

Sighing, he let his head fall back to stare up into the ceiling without really seeing it.

Since he didn't seem to be able to escape, he would surely have to face Dumbledore, something he would usually want to avoid and certainly didn't want to expose himself to now that the man knew beyond doubt that the vampire Elijah Spring who was loyal to the Dark Lord was one and the same person as Harry Potter, the disappeared saviour and Gryffindor's Golden Boy. What would the old headmaster do with the information? Would he kill Harry for betraying them or would he hold him as a hostage to use against Tom? Or would he, heavens forbid, try to make Harry come back to them and resume his role as the saviour of the Light? Harry scoffed at the thought. That, if anything, was something he would never do.

"Harry, my boy."

Snapping his head back down, Harry narrowed his eyes at the wizened wizard standing calmly before him even thought the teen could have sworn that there was no one there the previous moment. The blue eyes behind the half-moon shaped spectacles had lost their usual twinkle and were filled with disappointment, an observation that was quickly confirmed by the Headmaster's following words.

"I am very disappointed in you, Harry," he said gravely, behaving like the elderly grandfather who had been let down by his favourite grandchild, an act the man had completed thru many years of experience. Harry knew that before all of this, before everything changed, the act of disappointment would have affected him greatly, knew that it would have stung worse then the most poisonous words Snape could ever unleash at him. Now it only made his eyes narrow further in suspicion as he tried to figure out what the man's goal was.

"Why didn't you come to me, Harry?" Dumbledore continued, actually looking as if he really didn't understand it. "You know that you will always be safe here at Hogwarts and that I would have helped you had you only come to me, my boy. Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it."

Harry's narrow-eyed suspicion morphed into a stunned stare of disbelief. "Why I didn't come to you?" he asked incredulously. The reasons were so many and so much had changed already at that time, not least his views of the man he had always looked up to. That didn't seem to be an all that great thing to bring up at the moment, however, so he decided to pick one of the reasons that seemed relatively harmless in comparison.

"I'd just been turned into a vampire!" he exclaimed, wondering what the old man would say to get past that one. It was, after all, the fundamental reason that everything had changed. While he had started questioning the Headmaster's decision of leaving him with the Dursleys every summer, he would most likely never have changed anything if he hadn't been turned into a vampire and later killed Vernon.

"Oh, Harry," Dumbledore sighed sympathetically. "Did you think we wouldn't accept you because of that?"

The words hit home and Harry felt his heart ache briefly as that was exactly what had worried him, questions of if they would fear or hate him because of what he'd been turned into making him afraid of ever facing them again as he couldn't handle seeing disgust in their eyes when finding out. He had met Hermione, however, and she had accepted him for what he had turned into and remained his friend even when it had forced her to choose between Harry and Ronald. And he had made new friends with Draco and Pansy and Teo and the other Slytherins that had welcomed him into their little gang, and he had gotten to know Tom, and they were all people that he could never have befriended if things had remained as they were.

"Of course we would have accepted you, Harry," Dumbledore continued, unaware that the effect of his first words had already passed. "I would have helped you as I helped Remus with his lycanthropy, and I'm sure that Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley would have been just as supportive as your father and Sirius Black were."

"Oh, really?" Harry asked coldly, his eyes narrowing again. "Then how come you threw me into Azkaban as soon as you found out that I'm a vampire?" he pressed, eyes darkening in anger at the obvious lies the man was spouting. Technically, the man hadn't known that _he_, Harry, was a vampire, but rather that Elijah Spring, a Slytherin who was suspected of having some close ties with Voldemort, turned out to be a vampire, and that difference seemed to make all the difference in the world.

"Harry… my boy, you must understand," Dumbledore began disapprovingly, sounding like he was reprimanding a defiant child.

"Oh, really? What is it I _must_ _understand_, Headmaster? That you only see me as the Boy-Who-Lived and the future saviour? That I'm only a tool to you, a weapon to use against Tom?"

"Sometimes, sacrifices need to be made for the sake of the Greater Good, and you know that, Harry," Dumbledore lectured somewhat impatiently, sounding like he was reminding Harry of something he should already have known.

"Really? So it's okay to sacrifice a child, then? If it's for the sake of the Greater Good, it's okay, right?" Harry spat in response, more and more venom colouring his words.

"A child?" Dumbledore repeated, frowning with confusion that only served to anger Harry further.

"Yes, _me_!" he answered heatedly. "You dumped me with the Dursleys, just left me there without a care for how they treated me or the fact that they _hate _magic and _everything _connected to it, _including me_! And don't you _dare_ pretend as if you didn't know!"

He hadn't raised his voice, wasn't screaming and shouting as one might expect him to. Instead his voice was strained, sounding as if he could unleash all the presently controlled anger and give it free reign to cause whatever destruction it wished. Meanwhile, his eyes were ablaze and his gaze burned with rage as he was faced with the man he'd respected all his life, only to be utterly betrayed when the truth was revealed.

"Harry, my boy, when did you fall to such selfishness? I thought I had taught you getter than that," Dumbledore said disapprovingly. "Think of all the innocent people who will die because of your selfishness. Think about your friends, Harry – Hermione is a muggleborn and will most surely be a victim in this war. With your selfish actions, you caused Sirius' death today – had it not been for you, your godfather who loved you above all else would still be alive. Don't you understand, Harry? Your selfish actions bring nothing but pain and death to others."

Harry could only stare at the man before him, unable to answer as conflicting feelings wrecked havoc behind the cold glare. The rage remained, still flaming with cold determination, but it had been accompanied with a slight hesitance, the accusation of being selfish hitting home even though Harry was unwilling to admit it. Of course, he knew that the man was wrong, that he had every right to be selfish, but to argue for it only sounded bad and his old hero complex reared its ugly head in acknowledgement to the through that he should selflessly sacrifice himself for the sake of others.

"You should come back, Harry," Dumbledore said kindly, actually going as far as to spreading his arms as if expecting the bound vampire to throw himself into his embrace. "Your friends miss you, Harry – we all do. If you would only come back to us, everything could return to the way it was and we could leave all of this behind us – all would be forgiven!"

The old man took a step closer, his arms still spread, and Harry felt his gaze darken at the thought that Dumbledore might actually try to hug him. Luckily, the headmaster seemed to sense that physical contact was not an option at the moment so he did not come any closer.

"You belong with us, you do not know that, do you not, Harry? You will be among friends and loved ones, people who love you for who you are. Voldemort cannot love, Harry; he is only manipulating you into thinking that he cares for you. In reality, he is only using you – to him, you are nothing."

"And you don't?" Harry asked bitingly, his voice laced with bitterness.

"I'm not sure I'm following you, Harry," Dumbledore stated with a frown.

"The manipulating!" Harry bit out. "You're making it sound as if Tom's the only one doing it, but you're no better! All this _grandfatherly talking_, it's just the same! You're just trying to manipulate me into following your every whim!"

"Can you not see what he is doing to you, Harry?!" Dumbledore reprimanded, his voice booming powerfully, supposed to leave no doubt as to the truth of his words. "Can you not hear yourself? I know you, Harry – before Tom's manipulations, you would never have said such things!"

"What makes you so bloody sure of that, Dumbledore?" Harry hissed angrily in response. "I've never been allowed to be myself, always having to meet the expectations that everyone puts on their supposed _saviour_! Well, guess what, Dumbledore? _That's not who I am!_"

"Are you claiming that this is the real you, then?" Dumbledore questioned darkly. "A mindless fool following the very man who killed your parents and has tried to kill _you _several times! He is turning you into a monster, Harry! A coldblooded murderer! _He_ is the reason to why killing suddenly comes so easily to you.

"Have you thought about what you are actually doing? _You are taking people's lives_. If you had stayed true to yourself-"

"What's the difference?!" Harry exclaimed, rage burning with hot flames in his chest. "I had already killed before all of this happened! Quirrell, Dumbledore, _Quirrell_! I killed him with my own two hands _when I was an eleven-year-old_, and you _encouraged_ me! And nothing has changed! You still expect me to kill Tom for you, all the while preaching that it's wrong to kill!"

"Tom is _evil_, Harry. Can you not see that?" Dumbledore answered with barely restrained anger. "By killing him, you will save thousands! Think about all the people you can save!"

"What does it matter? Tom is way above me! I wouldn't stand a chance against him – it would be suicide! Only luck has kept me alive this long!"

"But it has not been luck, Harry! I know you can do it! The prophesy-!"

"No!" Harry interrupted. "I don't want to hear another word about that bloody prophesy! _I don't care! _It's all nonsense anyway!"

All pretence of grandfatherly understanding or disappointment disappeared and was replaced with a cold, closed off expression, the blue eyes darkening dangerously. The persuasion had apparently come to an end, and Harry found himself feeling relived, for somewhere inside he had felt uneasy and hesitant, just waiting for the moment when Dumbledore came up with something that would make him waver. If the man had managed to think of something that had made Harry so unsure of his choice that he'd even considered doing as the old man said, then everything would have been ruined.

"I know what you did to your relatives," Dumbledore stated, the threat clear in his voice as Harry noted that his name had been dropped. "I have kept the murder a secret, but if you do not stop this childish rebellion of yours, then I will let the world know that you killed your own uncle, the very man who brought you up and fed you."

The threat didn't have the effect Dumbledore must have expected, because Harry snorted darkly at the notion of having been brought up lovingly by Vernon. "Go on, tell them," he challenged coldly. "It won't change anything."

Dumbledore nodded, the look on his face telling Harry that they had reached the expected conclusion that Dumbledore had hoped to avoid.

"Then I am afraid there is nothing I can do for you, Harry," Dumbledore said, but he didn't sound the least bit apologetic as he drew his wand and aimed it at Harry, the intent clear in the blue eyes.

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

XXX

The end of the battle was marked by the Order's retreat as all Order members withdrew rather suddenly, apparently somehow signalled to do so. Casualties were few, something that would usually have caused celebration and, in Tom's case, certain smugness, but Tom was anything but in the mood for celebrating at the moment.

Everything had gone according to plan; they had entered the Ministry with ease and quickly found the prophesy. The Orders' attack had been expected and dealt with, the prophesy meant to be taken to safety by Harry who would, consequently, also be safe and unharmed. Up until that point, everything had gone according to plan – then it had all scattered along with the prophesy because of Black's death.

Standing in the Atrium with Bellatrix's body limp by his feet, Tom barely refrained from blasting the Fountain of Magical Brethren to pieces. He was disappointed and deeply so, but could not decide if he was the most disappointed in himself of Harry, as the boy had lost control of his emotions and had lost sight of his priorities when he let the prophesy shatter for the sake of revenge. Still, Tom realized his own error as well, however unwillingly, as he should have known that Harry would not be able to keep a clear mind in such a situation.

That did not stop him from being angry with the boy. Turning away from the cold body of one of his most faithful if not the most stable follower without a backwards glance, he disappeared with a crack and reappeared outside of the Mansion, his strides long and rather rushed as he set off to find his little vampire. The Dark Lord had long since abandoned the notion of having Harry as a mere follower, but no matter their relationship, _Tom _was the leader and there were certain things Harry simply could not do – such as rendering the whole operation of breaking into the Ministry useless by dropping the prophesy as if it no longer held any value.

Having entered the Mansion, he found it too still and quiet for his liking, instincts telling him that something was wrong. Letting his wand slide down into his hand he strode through the Mansion, listening for any sound while trying to detect any clue of what was amiss. The only thing breaking the silence was the slight echo of his own steps as he went up the grand stairs and through the corridors towards the rooms he shared with Harry. The door to the office swung open before him at a slight push of magic, silence and emptiness greeting him.

"Harry?" he called, his whole body tense and an unnerved feeling he could not quite identify squeezing his heart in its cold grip. Turning to the bedroom he found that, as well, to be empty, just as the bathroom. Logically he knew that the Mansion held many rooms where Harry could be, knew that he could not be absolutely sure before he had checked all of them… Still, he knew.

Harry was not there.

"Minxy!" he shouted and the house elf immediately popped into the room, the urgency in her master's voice making her hurry to comply even faster then usual.

Before Tom could ask her if Harry was anywhere in the house, the fire in the office came alive with a roar and the Dark Lord turned around to see Snape's head among the green flames.

"Harry has been taken, my Lord."

XXX

With eyes squeezed shut and his body tense against the impending impact of the curse, Harry felt his breath catch in his throat as he bit his teeth together to hold back the scream that wanted to break free. A scream of defiance in the face of death, or in protest because he didn't want to leave his life, perhaps even a pitiful scream pleading for mercy – Harry didn't know and the world would never hear it as the heavy thump of a body hitting the floor made green eyes snap open, the urge to scream dying in his chest as he was stunned into silence. The ropes binding him to the chair disintegrated around him as the magic that had called them into existence disappeared.

On the floor before him lay Dumbledore, his eyes open to stare into the ceiling blindly, dull and void of their twinkle. His wizard's hat had fallen off, leaving his white hair to spread haphazardly over the floor, his beard covering the unmoving chest. The whole world seemed to draw in a breath of shock when the former Headmaster's wand left slack fingers to clatter over the floor to come to a stop by a pair of black boots. The owner bent down and long, slender fingers with tips discoloured by potions picked up the wand to pocket it before turning towards Harry.

"Are you unharmed?"

Harry could only nod mutely as Snape flicked his own wand and summoned Harry's ebony one before handing it over to the young vampire. Taking his wand, Harry simply stared at it wordlessly for a moment, momentarily unable to comprehend the fact that he was actually alive. The hand holding his wand was shaking, and he squeezed the polished, dark wood harder to stop the tremble that seemed to spread throughout his body. Once again, dumb luck had been the only thing to save him from death. Taking a deep breath and holding it a moment before releasing it to steady himself, he looked up to meet Snape's onyx eyes which were watching him intently with a hint of worry.

"Thank you," he mumbled quietly, his voice close to cracking with sincerity.

His gratitude was acknowledged with a nod and then Snape grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet, giving him a quick once over to check him for injuries. Apparently satisfied, the potions master nodded.

"Would you be able to erect your glamour, Harry?"

"What?" Harry asked dumbly, still caught up in the realization that he could just as well have been dead. "Oh, glamour. Yes."

Closing his eyes to make it easier to concentrate, Harry reached up and tapped his head with his wand, his appearance changing flawlessly into that of the blonde Elijah Spring.

A shocked gasp startled the two wizards and they whirled around to see one of the previous headmistresses staring down at them from her portrait – or rather, staring down at the cooling corpse of the most resent headmaster, Dumbledore.

"Well, that sure explains why some of the wards have fallen," another portrait stated calmly while settling into his wingback armchair with a contented sigh.

"How can you be so indifferent to the death of a headmaster?" the first witch exclaimed, clearly upset with the long since deceased headmaster.

"He was a strange one, this one, going on and on about the Greater Good or whatever he called it," the now comfortably seated man answered disapprovingly.

"You are only complaining because you practiced the Dark Arts when you were alive!" the woman accused.

"Not true! The purpose of the headmaster is to protect the students and see to their needs – not to participate in politics!"

"Well now the headmaster is dead so there is _no one _protecting the students. Even the wards have fallen!"

"Oh, you stupid old-! Only the personal wards fall with the headmaster! The defensive ones are still in place!"

"What's the difference between those wards?"

The old headmaster and headmistress turned abruptly to blink down at Harry, surprise written over their faces as they seemed to have forgotten all about the two living humans still in the office.

"Oh, the personal wards are, well, _personal_," the elderly headmaster answered rather dismissively, seemingly regarding the personal wards as unimportant. "Every headmaster adds his own personal touch to the wards, tweaking them to their own needs."

"What kind of adjustments did Dumbledore make?"

"Well, he like to ban people form the grounds," the long since dead headmaster answered, only to be cut off by the headmistress, the two of them seemingly unable to agree.

"And for a good reason, to! He banned a lot of dangerous people, bad people. Just take Voldemort as an example! Without Dumbledore's adjustments that horrible man would have been able to waltz into Hogwarts and kill anyone he wished!"

"With Dumbledore dead and the wards down, he is most likely on his way here at this very moment," Snape remarked dryly and Harry's head snapped to the side to stare at him with wide eyes.

"Tom is here?"

"Yes, he- Harry!"

The teen ignored the potions master's call as he turned and sprinted out of the office, practically leaping down the stairs four steps at a time. The corridors opened up for him, empty and abandoned, void of life as the students had left school to celebrate Christmas at home with their families. The few who had opted to stay at Hogwarts over Christmas were still asleep or safe in their dorms and common rooms where they happily unwrapped presents, unaware that the headmaster was dead and that his wards had fallen. The sun hung low over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest, its rays of light glittering on the snow that covered the grounds and bathed the corridors in yellow light.

Skidding around a corner, Harry found himself on top of the stairs leading down to the Entrance Hall, sunlight streaming in through the double doors that had been thrown open, a tall, dark figure stalking through them with his wand in hand. The backlighting made it so that he could only see the silhouette, but still, there was no doubt in his mind of who the man was.

"Tom!"

The Dark Lord turned towards him and he was down the stairs with inhuman speed, the force with which he crashed into Tom causing the man to take a step back to steady himself before strong arms closed around the teen.

"_Elijah._"

**That's it! That was the last chapter, so now there's only the epilogue left – which I've already written, so it should be up in a few days when I've checked it :) **


	44. Epilogue

**Here's the end!**

**For those of you who've sent reviews implying that the world will end and that life will lose its meaning with the end of TNL: I already have plans for several other stories, and only have to choose which one of them to write so that I can get started. Hopefully that will give you something new to look forward to? ^^**

Some called it the Battle of Hogwarts, but there had never been any real battle and for those who had expected one, the end must have been quite anticlimactic. With barely any students left at the school and most professors away after having participated in the battle at the Ministry, Hogwarts fell quickly and Voldemort could take the power over the school with ease. The Ministry fell shortly thereafter, the wizarding community paralyzed by the death of their "Leader of the Light" and unprepared after having denied the resurrection of Voldemort for such a long time. The British wizarding community was remoulded and reshaped, picked apart to be put back together, the drastic changes violently protested by many – at least in the beginning. Once the new community ruled by Voldemort started taking shape and the most radical changes had been carried out, things calmed down as people realized that the changes imposed on their lives were not necessarily negative in nature. The opposition became less and less active until only a few remained, a group of stubborn wizards and witches who adopted the name of the Order of the Phoenix and narrow-mindedly upheld the notion that nothing connected to Voldemort could possibly be good. The support they received from the public lessened as time passed, and a few years later, the tone had changed completely, the Prophet reporting violent acts committed by terrorists.

A light snore broke Elijah from his recollections and he glanced at his lover, the man lying beside him in bed, turned towards him with an arm thrown over him to secure him safely to his side. With his dark hair tousled and purple bite marks blooming around puncture marks along the side of his neck, the man looked nothing like the respected leader he was. Smiling lightly, Elijah snuggled closer, soaking up the warmth of the other's body, a body he laid claim to repeatedly. The arm around his waist tightened briefly, then Tom grumbled under his breath and contentedly continued sleeping.

Turning away from his lover, bright blue eyes swept over the quarters that now belonged to him, the big, ridiculously soft bed overflowing with pillows and covers taking up most of the space of his bedroom and leaving little room for the great chunk of wood that was his wardrobe. A small fireplace stood opposite to the bed, the coals smouldering red. The mantelpiece was littered with moving pictures in wooden frames, Tom waving from one of them with Hermione and Lucius flanking him on either side, the Minister's office in the background. Life had continued in its steady pace, the old times becoming a thing of the past, the rule of Minister Riddle turning into a flourishing future to look forward to. The man led the country with a steady hand as he remoulded it with Lucius Malfoy by his side as his ever so proper and correct Undersecretary. Hermione had become a high-ranking Ministry official with some vague title to mark her importance, her place within the authorities impossible to name properly since she seemed to be everywhere at all times. With stubborn determination and the support of Tom, she had worked day and night for a couple of years to eradicate prejudice from the Ministry and the wizarding community as a whole, and many would say that she had succeeded now that equality between species had been firmly legalized. Hermione still wasn't satisfied but had calmed down a bit now that she had achieved her primary goals, and the Ministry as a whole had seemed to breathe a sigh of relief when she had slowed her pace to a more reasonable one.

A gaggle of children in muggle clothing smiled shyly in front of the entrance to a low brick building in another picture, the first group of muggleborn children attending preschool at the year of ten to learn about the magical world. The idea had been to introduce them to magic before Hogwarts and teach them about wizarding culture and norms so that they would have some basic knowledge about the world they were about to enter before they started their education at Hogwarts. The result was reduced cultural clashes as the children adapted better to wizarding society than before, and Elijah was privately happy that no child had to enter the world of magic as ignorant as he had been.

A third picture showed Hermione and Draco, both of the smiling brightly as they stood dressed in white, gleaming gold rings adoring their fingers as Draco held his newlywed wife with an arm slung around her waist, the witch turning to her husband a little now and then to peck him on the lips. That hadn't been too long ago and even though Lucius had worked alongside Hermione for some years by that time, he had still been close to a heart attack when learning his only Malfoy heir was going to merry a muggleborn. Old habits die hard, after all.

His attention was torn from the pictures when rustling announced his lover's awaking, and his lips were claimed in a lazy kiss moments later, his arms coming up to hug Tom's neck.

"Good morning," Tom greeted him sleepily, his voice rough after their nightly activites. "I really must have done a poor job last night if you've got enough energy left to wake up before me."

"I did take quite a lot of blood," Elijah answered with a chuckle, enjoying the solid body that settled atop him, warm hands stroking down his sides to grab his hips, sending a shiver down his spine.

"I might just be getting old," Tom answered with a slight whine to his tone before he bent down to such a mark onto Elijah's shoulder.

"You're the one who said it," the vampire answered, slightly breathless as desire stirred at Tom's ministrations. Teeth bit his shoulder in answer, making his moan and move his legs to tangle with his lover's under the covers, naked skin pressed together and growing heated, breath becoming laboured in anticipation.

The muted knock on a door reached them and Elijah sighed, moving to get up. Tom, on the other hand, seemed determined to ignore whoever was asking for their attention and continued, leaving open-mouthed kisses in a trail southwards over Elijah's torso.

"Nnngh, _Tom_," Elijah said, trying to sound admonishing but failing spectacularly.

More knocking, firmer and more insistent this time, and Elijah managed to roll them around so that he ended up on top, seated on his lover's chest. Leaning down, their lips locked in a passionate kiss, warm hands coming up to cup his bum. When whoever waited for them knocked again it sounded like the door was about to come down, and Elijah ended the kiss to rise.

"Coming!" he shouted as he swatted the hands off his bum and wandlessly summoned a dressing gown from a chair to wrap it around himself before exiting the bedroom and crossing his sitting room to open the door that separated his quarters from the rest of Hogwarts.

On the other side of the door stood Draco, patiently waiting, his hair slicked back and his robes as expensive and proper as ever. The years had evened out some of the pointiest parts of his face and given him a more mature, adult look that came across as rather regal, his aristocratic heritance unquestionable. Being closer to his thirties rather then twenties, he was still very handsome and many women looked after him with desire – and after Hermione jealously.

"Minerva sent me," he stated matter-of-factly, his grey eyes taking in Elijah's appearance with slight disapproval.

"Good morning to you too, Draco," Elijah answered amusedly.

"Hardly," the aristocrat answered with a shake of his head. "_Morning_ has long since past, Elijah – the students will arrive within 30 minutes."

"Really?" the vampire said in disbelief, rubbing his face with a hand and yawning. "Can't believe I slept the whole day."

"I can, seeing as we didn't _fall asleep_ until the morning," Tom stated from the door to the bedroom, appearing in only a pair of boxers.

"Minister," Draco greeted him calmly with a little nod of his head, completely unfazed by the man's state of undress as years of similar situations had cured him of the heavy blushing and embarrassed spluttering that followed the first time.

"Minerva wished to _remind_ you _both _that attendance is obligatory at the sorting and that it will commence in less than an hour," he stated before nodding to Elijah and leaving with majestically billowing robes in black and Slytherin green with silver linings.

"I miss the violent reaction he had before," Elijah said with a sigh as he closed the door, arms encircling him and pulling him back against a strong chest.

"Let's continue with what we were doing before we were interrupted," Tom breathed against his ear before nibbling at the lobe.

"_Tom_!" Elijah exclaimed. "You heard Draco; Minerva will flay us alive if we're not in the Great Hall – _presentable!_ – in 30 minutes!"

"Half an hour is a long time," Tom claimed, his words muffled and barely comprehensible as they were spoken against Elijah's neck.

"But I need a shower!" Elijah protested, the wicked grin that spread over his lover's handsome face almost making him regret his words.

"Shower sounds like a great idea, love," Tom stated before turning Elijah around so that they stood flushed chest to chest, their lips locking and hands grabbing at one another as they stumbled towards the bathroom for a very pleasant shower.

In the end, they walked down the stairs to the Entrance Hall when the students had already arrived and filled the hall on their way to the Great Hall. Their relationship was hardly a secret as it had been advertised on the front page of every magazine once people found out about it and the various marks on Tom's neck were concealed by a glamour, yet they still received some curious stares when they arrived side by side. The crowd parted before them, the students respectful before their Minister and the man that was commonly believed to be the strongest vampire in Britain. Some of the younger students still stared at the pare in awe, the older ones too used to them to display their respect so openly.

Upon entering the Great Hall, they were met by the slight glare of Minerva where she sat in the middle of the teachers' table, her back straight and her appearance as severe ever before, yet there was an amused twist to her lips. Elijah simply smiled at her in response, entirely unapologetic as he and Tom took their seats, Tom beside Minerva with Elijah on his other side.

"You sure took your sweet time," Draco commented dryly from Elijah's right.

"But we made it before the sorting," the vampire answered with a smile, making it sound like a great accomplishment – which it was, considering how many times they had _not _made it in time over the past years. "How's Hermione, by the way? I haven't heard from her in a few days."

"Her mood swings are getting worse by the day and she _still _insists on going to work," Draco answered with a tired groan. "She's driving father mad!"

"I can imagine," Elijah offered as sympathy with a laugh. "I was wondering what you'll do about work once the baby's been born?"

"I have discussed it with Minerva and we have arranged it so that I hold all my classes during two days so that I can stay at home with Hermione the rest of the time," he answered with warmth, a soft smile giving light to his features.

"Are you sure it's such a good idea to gather all classes to two days? You could barely stand it last year and then you had them spread out over the week with plenty of breathing space between."

"Don't remind me! The students this year cannot possibly be as inept at Dark Arts are they were last years! I'm just grateful that it's an elective only available for seventh and sixth years, I'd never be able to handle the younger ones."

"They're not that bad," Elijah defended his students with a smile.

"That's because it's still '_cool_' to have a vampire as teacher in Magical Creatures," Draco argued before his attention was attracted by the teacher on his other side.

Shaking his head with a smile, Elijah let his gaze sweep over the sea of black robes and pointy hats that the students comprised. Lowering his gaze he found his reflection looking back at him from the empty plate before him. His blue eyes had lost their innocent dullness and turned sharp, yet the look in them was kind and understanding. The blonde hair was about as long, still gathered with a blue ribbon, but his face had matured into that of an adult. The person sitting there was no longer a child or even a teenager busy changing his life and the fate of wizarding Britain, but a respected man in heavy robes done in a warm grey hue and light blue.

The doors opened once again to admit the first years led by Severus, many of them looking quite terrified after their first encounter with the snarky deputy headmaster. As the sorting began, Elijah leaned back comfortably in his chair, letting his gaze wander lazily over the students. Catching sight of a prankproduct from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, he promised himself to keep an eye on the pranksters as a smile spread contentedly over his lips.

All was well and life was good. Those who'd known of the existence of a prophesy had forgotten about it, its words meaningless now that no one believed in them or even knew the whole prediction. Voldemort had become a monster you told children about when they refused to eat their vegetables and the tale of Harry Potter and the Boy Who Lived was told by bedtime. Never was Voldemort connected to their venerable Minister Riddle, and no one knew what happened to the Boy Who Lived.

Almost no one, that is.

**Finished! Unbelievable! I actually made it! It feels kinda empty… **

**Thank you to those of you who've followed TNL since the very first chapter (if there is anyone who've had the patience to do so ^^') and all others who've actually read the whole thing! If it hadn't been for your fantastic and heart-warming reviews (that were sometimes not so gentle when kicking me in the butt to get me to upload again .), this story would most likely never have been finished 3**


End file.
